


Open Doors

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bake Sale, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Castiel and Kids, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Charlie Ships It, Co-workers, Competition, Competitive Dean Winchester, Dean and Kids, Declarations Of Love, Elementary School, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Summer Romance, Teacher Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-04-17 12:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14188998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: Summer always held a special place in Dean’s heart.  It was the only time he, as a teacher, didn’t have the little minds and sponge-like brains of tomorrow watching his every move, needing to set an example because being a role-model was quiteliterallyhis job.If he wanted to lay around the house and get drunk?  That was cool.  If he wanted to be a jackass with his brother?  Even better.  If he wanted to spy (ahem,creep) out the window at the sexy new neighbor that just moved in—Well, it changed from creeping to introductions much quicker than Dean planned.  Turned out, he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought.  To Dean’s delight, Cas was everything he wanted and more, and with the possible addition of a hotter than hot fling—this summer could be the best on record!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a lucky, lucky gal to have [GlitchedWings](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/) in my corner to beta read these new fics! Even in the middle of challenge chaos, she makes time to work on projects with me and I'm forever grateful! Speaking of: if you haven't already [check out her art!](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/tagged/my-stuff/) So much talent, I love her!
> 
>  **Ann's Notes:** HOLY CRAP, GUYS!!! This is my _50th_ fic added to my archive! I've never posted this many works in a single fandom for the world to read! And I've got so many more coming, I'm excited. I feel like this is a pretty damn good "50th Landmark Fic," and I hope you like it too!  
>  When you're finished (and only when you are finished haha), please make sure to read the note at the end :) 
> 
> Ahh, I adore you guys! All your feedback, love, and continued support is what keeps me going and got me here—I cannot thank my readers enough, you're both my inspiration and motivation to keep doing what I do <3

****Summer was what Dean Winchester lived for.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved the school year, he loved the little runts that he taught day in and day out—but summer?  This was when he could really let loose.

He didn’t have to worry about being a role model with tiny eyes watching his every move; Dean could go wild and get all that ‘frowned-upon’ behavior out of his system before he went back to being an upstanding educator.  Provided none of it followed him back, which he ensured didn’t.

What happened over summer break, stayed over summer break.

His salary allowed him to travel, hang out with his brother, get drunk with his buddies—and if he wanted to lounge around and marathon a show on Netflix, who was there to stop him?

The bachelor life was a good look, and he had no plans on slowing down anytime soon.

That’s why he was having a beer on his porch, kicking back and enjoying the day, until he heard a ruckus coming from the front.

It wasn’t on his porch or anything, but it was suspiciously close.

Oh yeah.  That’s when Dean remembered.  He was getting a new neighbor.  That could prove to be… interesting.

The previous woman who lived next door was an elderly gal named Missouri who Dean had gotten attached to.  She was both the typical sweet Grandma with an additional spunky streak, and she didn’t have any family who came to visit.  In the winter, Dean would plow the snow from her driveway at dawn because she woke up early to get the newspaper, and he’d be invited inside for breakfast.  

In the summer, he’d always check on her, visit with her, and she’d always have a pitcher of freshly-squeezed lemonade waiting for him.  Sometimes she’d ring him up in the middle of the night (Dean kept his landline just for her) and he’d fix her janky AC unit.  It seemed like he was the only one who could get it working on those hot nights.  Missouri told Dean that, no matter what, her door would always be open.  That the house was a second home to him.

It really sucked when she had passed away, but Dean had to remember he was _always_ there when she needed him.  He went out of his way to keep her company and in return she made life in the neighborhood worth it—Missouri lived a full life.  Wow, the stories she told about the fun she’d had ‘back in her day?’  They made Dean feel like he wasn’t living!  Not like Missouri had.

While he hadn’t been at the hospital, he’d been at the funeral.  Everyone said she went peacefully in her sleep.

She deserved it, she was a badass woman.  
  
Although, Dean couldn’t help but feel a tinge of bitterness.  The funeral gathering was friggin  _huge_ — it turned out Missouri did, indeed, have family and a lot of them—but did any of them come to visit her in her golden years?  No.  Not one.  Said family even had the balls to question Dean’s presence there, he had nothing to hide.  He and Missouri took care of each other, even though all those in ‘mourning’ wouldn’t know a damn thing about it.

With her house on the market, Dean had been counting down the days for someone to lay claim to it.  But he knew no one else could possibly fill Missouri’s shoes.  There had been multiple private showing, a couple open houses, and it kept the whole block wondering.  But now it looked like someone finally wanted to turn the lights on again.  
  
Dean had the best view to check it out and report back to the gossiping neighbors who were aching to sneak a peak—but he was too damn relaxed right now.  It was too much work to move.

He'd kind of loved that house…and maybe Dean was just biased because of all the good times he’d had with his friend, but he hoped it didn’t go to some douche-bag that would disrespect her memory.

Okay, fine, maybe this _was_ something he needed to scope out—

All his backyard relaxation was left in the dust, in exchange for Dean silently creeping through his own home and peering through the half-drawn blinds.  He was looking for movement, trying to catch a glimpse of his new neighbor without doing the whole welcome party thing.  Today just wasn’t a social day, it was Dean's me-time, and so creeping it was!

Yeah, okay, he was a little tipsy after his me-time-beers (it was five o’clock somewhere) and he nearly tripped where the carpet met the hardwood.  He didn’t spill, though! Except the bottle was beginning to foam, _crap_ , he needed to chug—

Dean realized that the only way he was gonna catch a glimpse would be closer to the front porch.  So his sneaking continued as he darted around like a ninja and crossed his living room.

He could hear voices shouting from the driveway: movers, asking what goes where, and while he heard a deep rumble, he couldn’t make out the words.  Or see the new guy.  Yes, guy, ‘cause there was no way a chick had a voice like that.

As a pair of movers passed carrying a massive couch, Dean finally caught his first glimpse.

Damn, whoever his new neighbor was?  Had a fantastic ass!  Probably would end up being a ugly motherfucker, but—

Woah.   _Nope_.  When the crowd cleared and he turned, Dean confirmed that he was gorgeous from head to toe.

Dean knew damn well his jaw had dropped—when he’d started gawking he hadn’t been prepared for the next door addition to be such a sexy dude.  Like, smokin’ hot, sexy.

Luckily, the guy couldn’t hide in the swarm of the uniformed delivery men, and stood out in his gym shorts and t-shirt.  A shirt that did very little to hide his build.  The roasting temperatures outside only added to the picture, because sweat was beginning to soak through Mystery Man’s shirt and it clung to his muscles in all the right ways.

By the time the guy wrapped his mouth around a water bottle, Dean was—

Shit!

He ducked and fell to the floor, banging his knees against the wood—he’d been spotted!

Apparently, Dean wasn’t as sly as he thought, and now he looked like the stalker he most definitely was.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, the only real way to remedy this situation was to go and introduce himself.  Hiding away at this point would only make him look worse.

Biting the bullet, Dean army-crawled across the living room floor until he was out of view from the window and collected himself.  He put the beer bottle on the table and slowly stood up, remembering he was an _adult_ , and during the school year he did this for a living!  You know—interacting with people.

He heaved a sigh and slowly made his way to the door, opening it up and walking the length of the porch.

“Hey there!  Welcome to the neighborhood!” Dean greeted with a friendly wave, realizing the guy was only a few yards away and even hotter up close.  He leaned over the railing, getting the dude’s attention and said, “I’m Dean.  Was it a long drive?  Where are you from?”

The man looked between the movers, Dean, and back again, before he walked over and introduced himself.  “My name’s Cas, and yes—it was a long drive.  I’m from New York.  I apologize if the noise interrupted your sunbathing.”

“My sun…” Dean’s voice trailed off and he looked down, only then realizing that he’d left his shirt behind.  “Oh.  I guess curiosity trumps clothes, huh?”

Fuck!  How many ways was he gonna make an ass out of himself today?

“I suppose it does.”  There was a grin spreading on Cas’ face that intrigued Dean.  “This is a lovely house.  I have family in the area who visited and sent me the pictures, then I sent the realtor my offer.  Much lovelier in person.  And it’s a…” Was he checking Dean out? “Very nice neighborhood.”

With a slow nod, Dean tried to see if he was understanding the situation right.  “Yeah.  It is.  Good company all around.”  For some reason, he ended up word-vomiting, “I was really good friends with the woman who died there.  I mean, _before_ she died.  Obviously.  She… was old, it wasn’t like she was killed, or something.  Missouri, her name was Missouri.  I helped her with chores, uh, she was a great woman.  Nice home.”

Cas laughed outright and Dean couldn’t blame him.  “Well, I could tell right away it has a good energy, there was a lot of love here.  Maybe I’ll see you around, Dean?  I have much to unpack.”  As he began to walk away, he added, “I hope I don’t disturb your sunbathing much longer.  The moving crew will be leaving shortly.”

“Heh, it’s all good.  See ya around, Cas.”  With an awkward salute, Dean quickly disappeared back into the house.

Jesus!  Did he forget how to ‘human’?!  Sure, summer was his time to chill, but he thought he’d do a helluvalot better than that!

Dean needed another beer…

\------------------------

Sure, it made sense that Cas was buried away in that house.  Unpacking his life, rearranging furniture, getting everything just right, _just so_.

That didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t constantly on the lookout for potential sightings.  That sounded like he was looking for Bigfoot.  Which he wasn’t, it was _quite_ the opposite.  Anyway—Missouri had a pool in her backyard, and mind you, it had been shut down for quite a while, but Dean kept an eye on it anyway because of the potential of recent developments.

Cas must wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day, since the pool looked like he had put in work.  He was rehabbing it and transforming it from a toxic waste dump into something aquatic again.

Which meant Cas in swim trunks!  If Dean got really lucky, a Speedo.  If he got really, really, _really_ lucky?  Skinny dipping.  In the middle of the night.  Fuck yeah.

There was also a passing fantasy about being a pool boy, but Dean often confused porn with real life—he needed to scratch that one off the list.

So Dean was keeping his eyes peeled and watching for activity in the pool area.  Watching for activity, well, _anywhere_.

All while hoping he didn’t get outed as a peeping tom.  Again.

At the same time, though, he gave Cas just as many opportunities to be The Peeper.  Dean laid out on his back porch with his friends, his brother and beer, soaking up the rays.  If Cas would come out of his cave, he’d invite him into the Relaxation Station too, but the man was still tucked away.

Until the day he wasn’t.

“Dean?  May I come in?”

He was lounging on the back patio, per usual, and when he heard that voice he practically jumped up off the lounge chair and rushed to the gate.  Dean opened the latch to see Cas, fist raised and knuckles ready to knock, with a notebook in his arms. Except now, at this level, it looked like he was about to friggin punch Dean, so he ducked out of ‘knocking’ range.

“Yeah, dude, come in!”  He flagged him on and led Cas through the walkway that hugged the side of the house, opening up into the large backyard.  “Have a seat, take a beer, chill out.”

“You’re quite the accommodating host,” Cas said with a smirk and took a seat on the edge of a chair, flipping through his notebook and pulling out a pen.  “I was hoping you could help me with a few things, actually.”

“Aw, dammit, this is a business visit?” he groused, not even bothering to hide his disappointment.  “Here I thought you were done being a stranger and were ready to hang out!”

Cas paused and tilted his head, obviously unsure of how to respond.

Dean felt bad for heckling him and swatted his arms, trying to keep things playful.  “Hey, it’s all good.  Still getting your bearings.  I’ll be here, ready to socialize when you want to.”

When he winked, something… came alive in Cas.

In fact, his entire demeanor turned around and he announced, “Perhaps I’ll surprise you and invite you over to my house?  In fact, what if that’s what I’ve been planning all along?”

“Is it?” Dean raised an eyebrow, dying of curiosity.

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” Cas’ grin was mischievous as he finally kicked back and relaxed against the chair.  “I’m actually working on getting the pool back in shape.  As nice as your patio is, maybe we can hang out on some floating chairs in the water?”

“Hey, I’m all about _that_.”  He clapped his hands and eagerly rubbed them together.  “Dude, you have to tell me the second that pool’s ready.  I love swimming, used to be a lifeguard.  But enough about me, you said you needed some help, right?”

“Ah, yes.”  Just like that, the switch flipped again.  

It was weird, because Cas had two (or possibly multiple, Dean had no idea) modes that changed with the subject matter.  Could he not be flirty and sexy when it came to business? …Dean may have just answered his own question…

Flippantly, Cas clicked the pen and explained, “It’s merely a moving, new area, advice-needed situation.  Quite boring and I’m sorry I have to come to you with these questions, I have no contacts in the immediate area—or rather, none that are in our demographic with similar homes, backgrounds, needs.”

“Huh?”  Dean asked aloud, “You know my life story, now?”

“I was simply noting that we’re in the same age group, probable similar incomes, unwed, childless,” he _casually_ managed totoss in, “gay, and—”

“ _Bisexual_.”  Dean was confident in his correction—it was something he’d struggled with for a damn long time, but now he could proudly own it.  “And I get it, you’re right.  Ask away, Cas.”

Oo, the little off-handed remark that Cas was, indeed, interested in men?  If that wasn’t a subtle hint, one of honest-to-God interest, Dean didn’t know what was.  Hot damn!

The smirk on Cas’ face gave Dean a case of the butterflies, both of them acknowledging the potential chemistry here and taking a moment to reflect on that.    
  
That is, before Cas launched into: “Now, whenever I move I always like to keep business within the community.  I don’t like to feed my money into the corporate machines, so I was hoping you could point me in the direction of small-businesses that are deserving?”

Woah.  Dean had _not_ expected that.

“Um.  Can I get, like, an example?”

“Of course.  Instead of Whole Foods, is there a deli or a Mom and Pop grocery store around here?  What about a local bank or credit unions that only operate in the area? Local hotspots that are “must sees” when you live here, not when you’re visiting?”  Cas was patient, and Dean understood.

He also thought the air quote were fucking adorable, but he wasn’t about to tell Cas that.

“Oh for sure, dude.  Get your notebook ready, I’ve got loads and loads of local joints you are gonna love!  Let’s start with the boring crap, so I can really finish off strong with the gems?”  Dean reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer.  He offered it forth with the disclaimer, “Hey, _you_ wanted my advice!  You’ll probably be here for a while.”

An genuine smile bloomed across Cas’ face and he nodded.

That was the afternoon he stopped hiding away in his cave.  That was the afternoon Cas finally discovered the simple joys around the city, where he was going to 'take his business' and many, many food destinations Dean said were ’must-trys.’  Even though he'd given Cas a top-five, that particular list went on for days—Dean even recommended happy hours and days of the week the restaurants had specials.

That was also the afternoon that Dean and Cas became a little bit more than neighbors, the afternoon their crushes were formed.  With each passing day and small conversation, those crushes grew, and Dean knew he was headed downhill—fast.    
  
Although...he _liked_ the speed and the intensity quite a bit.  This was what summer was about, right?

\------------------------

Sound carried around the subdivision, but more than that—Dean and Cas’ houses were only separated by a slab of concrete acting as extra parking, and the bedrooms were on the second floor, perfectly level.  Sure, the backyards had privacy fences, but their garages swung on the opposite sides, houses designed to mirror each other.  It was like their stupid window was the pivot point...and that was a dangerous game in the making.    
  
With the thought of Cas being right across from him in mind, Dean still hadn’t gone to sleep yet.  He loved the heat, opting to open every window in his home and let the fresh air funnel through, even though it let in every little sound in the neighborhood...

When he heard the window next door open, followed by a grunt of frustration, Dean knew _exactly_ what was happening.

The AC had shit out on Cas.

Hell, you’d think the realtors would’ve fixed that before selling the place.

Now, Dean would have let this lie.  Or rather, he _should_ have.  But after hearing the pacing against the creaking floorboards, after remembering that Cas, who probably hated the humid summers (unlike Dean), wasn’t expecting a brand-new purchase having faulty equipment...Dean decided to take a chance.

He pulled on pants and this time remembered to put on a shirt before walking down the stairs and out to the garage.  His toolbox was always on the counter for these moments when Missouri needed him, and with that in hand he inhaled sharply and walked the short distance between houses in his slippers.

Knocking on the front door in the middle of the night wasn’t normal, Dean realized, but then again he knew Cas wasn’t asleep.  He knew the guy probably wouldn’t be sleeping well no matter what, and if Dean could help out just a little?  Maybe he needed those extra brownie points…

The echo of hesitant footsteps inside turned swift when he caught sight of who was on the porch.  The door opened and confusion crossed Cas’ face when he greeted, “Dean? What is it?”

Gesturing with his tool box, he chuckled and clucked his tongue.  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they never gave you the instruction manual?”

“Instruction manual?” Cas repeated with a frown.  “What are you talking about?”

“The one that goes with your new home.  Specifically, the air conditioner.  I’m the only one she lets near her.  Can I…?” Dean hesitated, wondering if he was overstepping his bounds.

This _was_ pretty damn bold.  Now that he thought about it, he was kind of telling Cas he didn’t know what he was doing, that Dean—

Except Dean needn’t have worried, because sheer  _relief_ transformed Cas’ face and he cleared the entryway, all but begging, “If you can get that damn thing working, I’ll owe you one.  Something much bigger than a pool party.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.  This was practically one of my summer jobs anyway.”  Dean shouldn’t have been surprised that Cas was caught off guard when he was able to lead himself to the unit—but Dean had all but lived here as long as he’d lived in his own house.

Missouri took him in, they looked after each other from the day they met.  Dean knew this house—along with all the nooks and crannies—even better than Cas did.  Well, eventually the guy would, but for now, Dean was crouched in front of the machine, taking off the metal shield and tinkering with the wires.

“Mis—the, uh, last owner.  She couldn’t afford to get a new one.  That’s why I was always coming over and helping her out.”  Dean chatted while he worked, feeling Cas’ eyes like lasers boring into his back.  “Now, if I were you and I had the cash, I’d invest in a new one.  You’re planning on being here for a while, right?  You switch your bank to the one I suggested yet?” he couldn’t help the quip, like he was making an inside joke.

“Yes, I have.  All your recommendations have been very, very handy."  Cas hummed and confirmed, “At least a year.  I don’t suppose I’ll be able to have you on retainer, coming and fixing this whenever it fails.”

“Heh, she’s fussy.  That’s for sure, but—” Dean grinned when the AC whirled to life, the cold air beginning to shoot out from the vents, feeling the sense of victory.  “ _But_ ,” he continued, “until you get around to it, I can give you my number—”

When Dean stood up, Cas was much, _much_ closer than before.  Like, right up in his personal bubble, broken through the bro-code into uncharted territory.  Yeah, Dean may have loved this, but he didn’t know if it was deliberate, or if the way he had crouched over had—

Okay, Cas was now kissing him—this _was_ deliberate!

Fuck, did this man know how to kiss… his lips felt plush and soft against Dean's, moving and driven by something other than a ‘thank you’ as their tongues just briefly brushed.  Dean couldn’t stop the initial moan of surprise, or the later aroused moan of _‘godthisfeelsfantastic_.’  But it seemed to be his sound of appreciation that drove Cas away.

While Dean's mouth hung open and his eyes remained closed, Cas said, “I’d very much like your number.  Only seeing you by the mailbox, or randomly on your patio isn't enough for me anymore, I‘m afraid.”

That meant he hadn’t messed up, and he dared to meet stunning (oh, and hungry) blue eyes.  “Yeah?  Just to fix yer house, or…?” Dean couldn’t help but tease him—he'd been taking risks all night and he wasn’t about to stop when he was on a roll.

Cas wasn’t phased, he easily shrugged it off.  “Among other things.  But I very, _very_ much appreciate you coming to the rescue tonight.  I do not like nor find myself in damsel situations a lot.  So the fact that you were here, and already made up your mind to help, is what will allow me sleep tonight.”  

He watched Dean gather his tools (knowing he had to take off, or else he may tackle Cas, it was so tempting) and before he could say anything, Cas added, “Maybe another night, you could keep me awake.”

Dean nearly dropped all his shit.  Damn!  Cas was _awesomely_ confident, and it did wonders to harden his cock at the wrong place and wrong time.

They walked to the front door together, and Dean agreed, “I think that’s a good enough reason, and an even better plan.”

“I’m glad I didn’t misread this situation.”  Cas’ mouth curved into a smirk, one that was downright wicked and would give Dean wet dreams tonight.

“N-nope.  You got it right.”  While trying to hold onto what dignity he had left, Dean watched as Cas grabbed a scrap piece of paper on the entryway table along with a pen.

He scrawled down a number, and that was freaking amazing.  After all, in the midst of inviting himself over, did Dean think enough to have brought his cell?  Nope.  Good thing there wasn’t a real emergency or Cas wasn’t a serial killer, or something.  Instead, Dean was now holding the golden ticket that had been slapped into his palm.  Hell yeah.

“Thank you, again.  Have a good night, Dean.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Cas.  Throw a rock at my window if she stops working again, okay?  Or just… shout, I guess.  I’ll text you in the morning.”

“I’ll plan on it.”

And that was how Dean showed up at Cas’ door in the middle of the night, _not_ to be a creep, and actually managed to snag the hottie-neighbor’s number.  Yeah, this summer was finally heating up.

\-----------------------

It figured that Dean didn’t actually get the courage to send Cas that promised text until _late_ one night.   _Multiple_ nights later.  Okay, maybe it _was_ well over a week...so shoot him, he got cold feet...

Not only was Cas awesome, gorgeous and—apparently—into him, he was… right there.  It was too tempting, too easy, and Dean wasn’t sure if this was a situation where he was closest guy in a new area, so Cas didn’t have to go fishing, or if Cas actually liked him!

It could’ve gone either way.  But Dean already knew from experience what the city had to offer, and nothing was better than who just moved in right next to him.

Dean wasn’t sure where Cas’ head was at.  Coming to a new town, being out-and-proud and looking for a hookup _or_ boyfriend was damn difficult.  Which, _once again_ , was why Dean had convinced himself that maybe… he was directly on-hand.  And he didn’t know how he felt about it.

There was only one way to find out...

 _Dean 11:38PM_  
_hey its dean_  
_this is my number  
hopefully we can see each other soon_

That wasn’t too high school…was it?  Shit, now he was in bed overthinking it.  As he had been, on loop, already.  Dean sighed and reached out to put his phone on the nightstand, but before he could plug it into the charger, it vibrated in his hand.

 _Cas 11:40PM_  
_It’s about damn time  
Come over_

Woah.

Dean shot up from bed and scanned the message again and again.  Yeah, it definitely said what he thought it said.  Before he could deliberate whether this was good or bad, there was another text coming through—

 _Cas 11:42PM_  
_I’ve been waiting_  
_I’m opening the door for you  
Lock it behind you_

Thrill rushed through Dean like a tidal wave, but—did this confirm all his suspicions?  …Did he even give a flying fuck at this point?

Hell no.

He was on his feet and grabbing his jacket in record time, following his siren’s call.  And, damn, was Cas singing his song…

Dean was an optimist, which meant he locked his own door behind him before he skipped across the small stretch of sidewalk between their houses.  Just like Cas said, when he turned the doorknob it easily opened, and once he was inside, he turned the deadbolt behind him.

“Cas?”  Dean had no idea where he was, only that he was waiting.

“Upstairs.”

It was dark, and the only guide was coming from the street lights outside.  Luckily, Dean knew this house well enough to move around in the darkness.  He also patted himself on the back—there was a nice chill to the air from the AC he’d fixed.  While he ascended the step, he listened for signs of where Cas was.

He had an idea, but the creaking of the old house would tell him for sure.  Sure enough, the floorboards of an old home didn’t lie and they lead him to the master bedroom.  Was Cas there looking out the window, over toward Dean’s own room?

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was hushed as he lingered in the doorway.  “So I’m here.”

“Yes, finally,” Cas shook his head.  “I wondered what took so long.  While I’ve finished moving in, I’ve caught glances of you… doing absolutely _nothing_.  Why is that, Dean?”

When he turned, Dean gulped.  From behind, sure, he could see Cas was wearing a robe.  He had no idea that it was hanging open and all that Cas was wearing underneath was a pair of boxers that—whew—left nothing to the imagination.  Dean was both hot under the collar and sweating from anticipation, all at once.

“W-why have I been doing nothing?  ‘Cause I _have_ been doing stuff!  Or why…haven’t…I texted…you…” Dean’s words were heavy on his tongue.  Cas was staring him down and closing in, mere inches away, now with a hand steadily on Dean’s hip.

“Why haven’t you gotten in contact with me?” Cas sized him up and raised an eyebrow.  “Is there a reason tonight was _the_ night?”

The spot where Cas’ hand gripped him was hot.  There was something so dominant about the man, it had Dean’s cock stirring from one, singular touch and the way Cas’ seared into him didn’t help.  Their proximity was risky, so was the question, and Dean knew he had to play this right—

“I… _like you_ , okay?  I like hanging out, being with you, this stupid crush grew into something more.  But then, I didn’t want to be some kinda easy, home-delivery hook-up.  Fuck.  Like I just was. _Am_.  Dammit...”  Dean rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, but Cas took it to heart and withdrew a step, frowning.

Cas asked in disbelief, “You… believe you’re easy?”

“No!  Kinda!  Fuck!” Dean threw his arms in the air and walked backwards until he hit the wall.  “It’s just pretty convenient that your first fling potential lives right next door, you know?  You don’t even have to plug your new coordinates into an app, or some shit, it—”

“I like you, too,” Cas rushed out, interrupting him.  “I’d never use you like that.  If anything, it’s less convenient, since if something doesn’t work—we’re stuck living beside one another.”

“Oh, wow, I didn’t even think of that,” Dean admitted sheepishly, because that actually made sense.  “I’ve been stalling for nothing.”

“Then we won’t stall anymore,” he suggested with an extended hand.  “Would that be all right with you?”

Dean couldn't say “Fuck yes,” fast enough.

He allowed Cas to pull him in, to kiss him again, and this time it was so much better.  Because neither held back a damn thing.  They didn't stop their wandering hands, or tracing tongues, because the feelings of ‘something more’ were mutual—and while Dean’s mind was blown, he wasn’t going to blow _this_.  Unless it was a sexy kind of blowing, then he was totally on-board.

Cas’ hard, muscled body was just a yank of the robe away—Dean was optimistic the boxers would follow—and he pushed it off the man’s shoulders.  The fabric pooled on the floor and now Dean had nothing but miles of skin to touch, and already-hard nipples to tease (thank you, AC) which made something in Cas snap.

There was a rumble low in his chest as he began to rip and tear Dean’s clothes away.  Holy shit, was he on a mission, and while it wasn’t like Cas hadn’t seen him shirtless before (on multiple occasions) something about this was so much more… intimate.

It could be the way he sucked marks down Dean’s chest, before sinking to his knees, taking his pants and boxers with him—

“Woah!  Cas,” Dean gasped, and he didn’t know why he was so shocked, but the stunned skip-of-a-heartbeat turned into a racing pulse when his cock was _swallowed_ down.  “ _Motherfu—_!”

Holy.  Shit.

Dean really should have seen this coming with the way Cas kissed him, but Cas sucking a cock?   _Completely_ different story.  Dean could feel his knees threaten to buckle as Cas swirled his tongue around the head and sucked.  Every other rotation, he would take Dean down his throat, all the way down, and hum around his erection.

This—this was too much, too soon, before it could get out of control—

“C-Cas, I wanna feel you.  And, maybe, talk?”  Why did he sound so hesitant?

“Of course.”  Cas slowly rose and kissed Dean’s neck once more, following the path back to his lips and coaxing him towards the bed.  It was so damn smoothing and graceful, that Dean was already underneath him, when Cas asked, “Are we going too fast?” then remembered, “You wanted to feel me, right?”

His smirk was nothing but trouble when he grabbed Dean’s hand and guided it between his legs.  Not just between his legs, Cas pulled down his own elastic waistband and led Dean’s hand down the front of his boxers.   Hot damn, even with the straining against the fabric and nothing to hide his size, Cas still felt impossibly larger in his hand.

He moaned and arched into Dean’s fist, and Dean was… captivated.  Not even one trivial, minute thing about Cas was shy.  He was sexual energy, proud, enthusiastic and on the verge of turning bold words into bolder actions.  Dean knew the heavy weight in his palm had something to do with it.

While his hips continued to move, precum wetting Dean’s hand and making him salivate, Cas was still cool under pressure when he spoke.  “I actually wanted to ask you something, too, Dean.  Since we’re talking.”

“Y-yeah?”  Although Dean’s ‘talking’ had been an excuse to push pause, as to not blow his goddamn load down Cas’ throat in .000023 seconds, _Cas_ was speaking and this was good…

“You told me you were bisexual,” he said candidly, reaching down again and wrapping his hand around Dean’s weeping cock.  “Does that mean you have strict rules about topping?”

Dean couldn’t believe how swiftly he blurted out, “No,” and then stammered to recover with, “I mean, switching’s good, but I’m not gonna lie, Cas.  Call it a… hunch,” he glanced down to Cas’ dick suggestively, “that you’ll take _very_ good care of me.”

Oh, and did Cas light up.  That vibrant, sensual blaze could’ve lit up the entire room.

Cas pulled away, both from Dean’s ministrations and where he’d pinned him, to reach into his nightstand.  “Dean, I plan on taking such good care of you tonight.  In addition to as many nights and times that you’ll let me.”  The words were akin to a purr as he retrieved the lube and a condom.

A shiver of excitement shot through Dean’s spine as Cas went to work between his legs, slicked fingers working deftly and smoothly.

Jesus, Cas and his clever fingers didn’t make this a chore, not at all.  He was deliberate in his moves, every twist and pump of his fingers was meant to spark pleasure through Dean.  And it worked.  Hell, Dean never considered his ass being eased open to really be part of the foreplay.  When he was in a committed relationship, he’d rather do it himself in the shower in order to skip it with a partner altogether.

Except Cas was shooting liquid bliss through his veins with every half-brush against his sweet-spot, every hitched breath of excitement when he stretched him more, knowing they were that much closer, and… nothing hurt.  Could this man be more incredible?!

“You should see yourself,” Cas whispered, breath tickling against Dean’s collarbone after he pecked a quick kiss on his clavicle.  “Writhing on my fingers, begging for more...you’re starved for this, aren’t you?  How long have you been waiting for a good fuck, beautiful?”

“Too damn long,” Dean chuckled and shook his head.  When Cas pulled his fingers away and Dean knew the time was coming, he dared to reach out and cup Cas’ cheek.  “Can’t lie, I’ve also had this crush on my neighbor since the day he moved in.  Could have something to do with how friggin needy I am.”

Cas drew in a sharp breath between his teeth and kissed Dean for all he was worth while he tore open the foil and rolled the condom on.

“Tell me—how do you want it?” Cas was about to break, Dean knew it; he heard the cap to the lube click back on and the bottle slam against the nightstand so hard he knew Cas was ready, _now_.

Why did he feel nervous?  Screw it, Dean went for it.  “Like this…”  It came out too shy, much more than he’d intended, but Dean forced more bravado in the hollow spaces when he confirmed, “I wanna watch you.  Be able to kiss you.  And, trust me, I _will_ let you do this many, many other times—we can experiment then—”

“You’re perfection,” Cas said it like a prayer and spread Dean’s legs, lining himself up.  “Normally, I don’t believe in fate, but when you showed up at my front door, that's what it felt like.  If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is—” he didn’t bother hiding the moan as he eased in and—

A shout of pleasure was ripped from Dean's chest, he couldn’t control a damn thing that burst from his mouth, Cas was rocking his world.

Thank fucking Christ said ‘front door’ was on a corner of their suburb, and 'the next-door neighbor' was currently right here.  Already in bed with Cas.  Anyone else would be getting an earful—AKA free show.  Cas had prepared Dean for the stretch, and it was just that—the overwhelming sensation of being stuffed full with a massive cock.  Still, nothing hurt, which was insane all by itself.

Cas must have known, because he was the one to begin moving.  Or was it Dean?  There was the fact that Dean had _definitely_ wrapped his legs around Cas, and locked his ankles together behind his back.  Dean was using his legs to haul Cas in, trying desperately to feel that dick as intensely as he could—

Cas picked up the pace, looking absolutely thrilled right before he began kissing the hell out of Dean again.  Dean moaned and babbled into Cas’ mouth, things like, ‘ _dammit, your cock’s unreal,_ ’ and ‘ _Cas, you’re fucking me so good,_ ’ along with tons of other embarrassing things—but he couldn’t be held accountable!  Not when he was getting pounded within an inch of his life.

By the time Cas had finagled a way to move Dean’s legs up over his shoulders instead, Dean was coasting on the edge.  Since he was folded in half, Cas’ cock was plummeting so much deeper inside him than Dean’s own half-assed attempt at pulling him in.  Plus, he could easily graze his prostate here, giving Dean freaking blinding pleasure each and every time.

Dean grabbed the base of Cas’ head to get his attention, and instead became completely mesmerized by the image in front of him.

Cas’ blue eyes alive with lust and desire, but distorted by the heavy darkness that was his blown-out pupils, dilated with arousal.  His lips were swollen from Dean’s hungry assault, and he could count at least two marks he’d left on Cas from his own greedy mouth.  The sweat glistening off his brow, fucking into Dean for all he was worth—

Yeah, Cas was absolutely _breathtaking_.

And Dean?  He could get used to this...

“Cas, you—!”  The warning was nearly pointless; as Dean was already spilling release over both of them.

Astonishingly, Cas kissed him with sweet, sweet purpose through his orgasm, spreading the cum over both their bodies.  He gasped into Dean’s mouth, because his clenching and tight (now even _tighter_ ) body squeezed and milked an orgasm from Cas almost instantly.

Dean was just coherent enough to watch the show and it was glorious.

God, how did he get so lucky?  His mouth was now dry from watching the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen not only cum from pounding him, but _also_ shouting Dean’s name.  He’d be having dreams about this for years to come...

A baby wipe cleaned up their stomachs and chests, then Cas wadded it up—along with the tied-off condom—and tossed both into the garbage.

They both laid exhausted and panting, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Dean was thankful that the AC was blowing strong.  If it wasn’t, he would either melt against Cas or overheat from how goddamn fantastic that had been—he needed the cool-off.

Cas held him like he was something special, like Dean _meant something._   Considering they hadn’t known each other that long, let alone intimately, Dean's heart wanted to believe that maybe they _did_ have something real.  And Cas made it so easy...  Every random kiss, every sweet caress, it was just that: something special.  Sweet, tender, fifty kinds of amazing.

Dean was still basking in the moment when Cas broke the silence.

“You not reaching out, I was worried it was something that I had done.  If I had been too…presumptuous kissing you that night,” he admitted, and for the first time since Dean had met him, Cas sounded unsure.  “I watched you.  I mean, how could I avoid it?  Each window from the west side is like a glimpse into your life, and that’s… what it was.  May I be forward?”

“Heh, forward away,” Dean may have sounded wistful, but more than anything, he was fascinated.  As if Cas had ever sought permission before…

“Everything you do, even the most mundane of things, you do it with this… passion for life.  This energy follows you around, it’s contagious, when you’re with your brother, there’s love.  When you’re with your friends, they’re family.  When you’re watching TV, you’re active, like you’re joining in on the entertainment,” Cas chuckled to himself, “ _you’re_ even more entertaining.  I guess what I’m saying is, I’ve learned so much about you.  Simply from catching pieces of your life.  Everything you touch is better than you found it.”

Wow.  Dean had not been expecting that.  Not in the least.  His face was now a vibrant red, and not from the… physical activity, but from the showering of compliments.  He didn’t do compliments, for _this_ reason alone.  While Dean was trying not to gape like a fish, Cas didn't miss a beat when he continued:

“That’s why I couldn’t wait.  Once you messaged me.  I needed to see you, I needed to do something that would make an impact with you.  I wanted you, Dean, and I hope I haven’t offended or bothered you.  I understand how this could come across as strange, now that I’ve said it aloud, and—”

“No, Cas—” Dean moved on top of him and shut him up with a kiss.

It was another deep, lingering, butterfly-inducing, heart-racing kind of kiss, Dean couldn’t keep his lips to himself.  Especially not after hearing that.  And this was the best kind of ‘thank you’ he could give, without completely floundering.

As Dean pulled away, he whispered, “I get it, I feel the same about you.  I got so caught up in watching you the first day, that I made an ass out of myself during introductions.  But, I’m not gonna lie, whenever I could get away with it, maybe I did the exact same thing.  I already told you where my head was at, even if it was a dumb place.  But you showed me I was wrong.  Now?  If you’re into it… I wanna see where this goes.  Where _we_ go.”

Cas’ eyes flooded with warmth, already confirming Dean’s hopes before he even spoke the words, “I’d love to.  We wasted enough time waiting, watching from a distance.  It’s time that we started living.”

“Hell yes,” Dean wholeheartedly agreed, and kissed Cas stupid all over again.

When they eventually turned in, it was because they’d ran each other completely and utterly ragged.  The night was absolutely amazing, as were all the nights that followed.

Dean loved every summer, but this one was a contender for the record books.

\-----------------

It was a few days before Dean had to go back to work and he was pouring over his classroom plans and mock-up schedules as he’d been doing all week.  Even though he didn’t officially know which grade he was assigned to instruct yet, there was still much work to do, including generalized supply lists and tentative syllabi.  Dean hadn’t been able to see Cas like he wanted, but they both seemed to be in the same place: anticipating the end of summer.

Once Cas settled into the neighborhood, he started going out with that ‘family in the area’ he vaguely spoke of.  And to be honest?  Dean was utterly _terrified_ that he may see Cas bring someone home one of these nights.  He was sick to his stomach that maybe, just maybe, he’d actually _hear_ someone else moaning Cas’ name through that bedroom window of his that Dean kept open.

Dean huffed.  He kept telling himself that maybe it was a summer fling and nothing more.  Maybe that’s why Cas wasn’t as… available, as he once was.

Or maybe it was nothing.

They still spent nights together, even though it was usually one of them sneaking into the other’s bed and waking them up with kisses or a blowjob.

The thing was, Dean had no idea where Cas’ head was at.  And instead of asking him—like a normal human being—he _stewed_.

Dean hustled to finish his work for the upcoming school year (or at least what he could until his set-in-stone job assignment) all so he’d be able to spend the last nights of the summer with Cas.  Because… what if this was it?  Their last hurrah?

Dean rushed his way through the final copy of a Code of Conduct he’d send home with the students for their parents to sign, and grabbed his phone.

 _Dean 4:12PM  
_ _Wanna grab dinner? :)_

 _Cas 4:16PM_  
_I wish, I have work  
Stop by tonight?_

Fuckin’ a.  Maybe this was what Dean thought.  Maybe they were nothing more than a booty call.  But it sucked.  He really, truly had fallen for Cas.  Dean should have known that when Cas got his feet under him in this new town, he’d spread his wings.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder—what had he done wrong?

Of course, he still responded ‘Yes’ back to Cas (he was a glutton for punishment) but what about his heart?

Should he bring it up?

Dean continued to eyeball the phone, like it held all the answers.  And suddenly, his breath caught in his chest when it went off, and across the screen flashed:

 _Cas 4:21PM  
_ _I can’t wait to see you_

Right here, was the damn problem: now, Dean was a mini-tornado of frustration, up in arms over this.

Because _how_ could Cas be all casual like that?  Like nothing was wrong?  Like they weren’t falling apart by the day and… maybe Dean was seeing something that wasn’t there.

Cas had been the voice of reason once before, maybe Dean was freaking out over nothing.  It was just… the last time Dean had felt like this about someone, he’d been willing to change his _entire life_ for them!  What he felt about Cas, it was heavier than he anticipated, and he’d only felt this kind of love once before.

Back in the day, Dean had taught high school kids, but when he began dating Lisa… he’d completely fallen for their family unit, plus her kid Ben, just as hard.

Ben had been young all those years ago, and Dean had helped raise him.  For a second, he even thought (yeah, Lisa and he had a previous fling) Ben may be his.  It hadn’t mattered whether or not he was a biological parent, Dean had felt in his bones that he _was_ Ben’s father.  He felt every victory and stumble along the way—learning to ride a bike, beginning sports, trying to flirt with a girl…

Dean was ready to hang up his hat.  He thought ‘This Was It.’  He’d arrived at that sought-after apple-pie end-game.  He was in love, they had an awesome kid, and a great, bright future.

Unfortunately, Lisa didn’t feel the same.  She didn’t feel the same _six different times_.  And it gutted Dean.

Not only had he been cheated on, but he had been mentally prepared and ready for the long haul.  Dammit, had it hurt.

There was only one good thing he’d taken away during the (extensive) healing process.  

Dean realized that he had a knack and a love for the little ones.  Sure, high schoolers were cool, they listened, and you could play hard-ball with them if you needed to.  But there was something about the imagination, the innocence, and the unconditional love of the younger ones…    
  
It turned his occupation into an even larger calling, and Dean preferred being planted in a spot to shape the way they looked at the world.  He made it his personal mission to keep that light inside his students shining bright, fighting tooth and nail against dimming or darkening it.  Dammit, Dean refused to let in the bitter and jaded parts when they had so much life to live.  So many countless kids were forced to grow up too quickly, they were disenchanted these days and Dean wouldn't let that happen.  

Teachers were in a massive position of power, but not all of them were in it for the right reasons.  Dean knew that he cared, _he_ fucking _cared_ , about how they were raised, and these pivotal years made such a difference.  Ben grew up to be a great kid, and it could have been very different.

 _Ben_ was the reason Dean ‘downsized’ from high school and taught elementary.

 _Lisa_ was the reason he was scared to death about _Cas_.  Because he was seriously falling (ahem, _fallen_ , okay?) for that asshole, and Dean had no idea what was going on in his head.  The last time he’d asked someone what was going on with a relationship, Dean learned that the relationship was about six people too big.

Dean… wasn’t sure he could handle that again.  Not from Cas.  Which was why he wasn’t sure he could have that conversation.

Okay, he was scared.  Love was difficult, and this summer was so great he didn’t want it to end.  But the countdown was on, and Dean had to make some choices one way or another…

\---------------------------------

Usually, Dean was ecstatic on the first days of school.

He was excited to see his coworkers, ask how their summers had gone, thrilled to get his class list and ready his room, but today was a different story.

Today felt like the end of an era.

For the first time since they’d gotten together, Dean didn’t see Cas last night—they hadn’t ended up in each other's beds—and if that denial, the refusal of letting Dean come over wasn’t a sign that they were finished?  He didn’t know what was.

Dean felt like he was walk-of-shaming his summer happiness into the school.  They had a giant staff meeting today, welcoming new arrivals, getting their assignments, and then they were to settle in for the rest of the day.  He had his backpack on and felt like a student himself.  Dean never did well sitting through ‘official’ meetings, he squirmed and watched the clock tick by like one of his kids would.  
  
He very much preferred the hands-on activities: things that stimulated your brain and got you moving.  Not anything that felt like a lecture.

Coffee was the one thing that was creating the buzz he needed, the second—was seeing Charlie.  She was his best friend and coworker, but every summer she took off to do a charity project in some remote corner of the world.  Seeing the flash of red hair and then having an armful of bouncing BFF helped him so much.

“Dean!  I feel like it’s been so long.  We’re late,” she rushed the words out—looping her arm through his—as if he didn’t already know the time.

With a scoff, he groaned, “I’ve been movin’ slow.  I missed you, Char.  Where were you when I needed a girls’ night?”

“Girls’ night?” Charlie echoed as they sprinted down the halls, towards the auditorium where the rest of the staff was waiting.  “What happened?  We can still totes have a girls’ night!  Tell me what you can, now—”

“Got my heart broken.  Shoulda known it was a summer fling, but I got too close.   _Fuck_ , he was gorgeous.  Awesome in bed.  Sweet, too.  But we fizzled.  Thing the sucks the most?” Dean whispered the details into Charlie’s ears, because there were people beginning to funnel in, “We’re _neighbors_ , so I’ll be pining out my window, wishing we were still together whenever I see his dumbass.”

“Shut.  Up!” she gasped, half stunned, half in resentment.  “Fizzled?  You’re not allowed to fizzle!  Especially if you’re neighbors.  We’re getting this man back, Winchester!  Or I’ll help you bury a body—”

As they whipped around the corner and threw open the door, Charlie suddenly collided with a very solid BFF’s body and yelped.

Because while she had been gunning it _forward_ , searching for a seat for the pair to take, Dean had _frozen_ like a statue in the doorway.

“Miss Bradbury, Mr. Winchester, how am I not surprised you two are late,” Ellen Harvelle, the principal of the school greeted them—but that’s not what Dean was focused on (even as Charlie was flailing).  “I was just introducing our new staff, the first is Castiel Novak.  He’s also teaching elementary this year.”

Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.

They didn’t fizzle, Cas had been doing prep work, too.  As his—whatthehell— _coworker_?!  How had this _never_ come up?  

Why couldn’t Dean have been a normal boyfriend and just spoken up about what he was feeling?  Why couldn’t he have _asked_ Cas why he was so busy all the time?!  Why had he thought he was getting his heart broken when it was just—

“You may have a seat,” Ellen suggested, Dean still a deer-in-headlights, gripping Charlie tightly to his stone wall of an arm.  “Let’s continue on with the introductions. Mr. Novak, you may have a seat.”

All right, they were _all_ going for the same row of empty chairs.  Cas’ eyes were wide with worry as he moved in time with them, following Dean and Charlie.  Hopefully Dean actually made it to sit down before he keeled over—

He was pretty damn sure he was having a panic attack.  What were the chances that Cas was a teacher?  How could Dean have known that the elementary school was one of the reasons he’d actually moved into his neighborhood in the first place?  Sitting through this meeting and trying to sift through all his memories, looking for a single friggin clue—anything at all he could have missed—  
  
Dean was gonna have a hell of a time getting back into the swing of things at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for SPN Fluff Bingo  
> Square Filled: Neighbors AU


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the sun set on Dean’s picture-perfect summer, he honestly thought his relationship with Cas had dimmed with it.
> 
> With the dawning of the first day of school, Dean is shell-shocked to learn that not only did he jump to conclusions about his ‘fling’ ignoring him, but Cas’ distance was preparation for his new gig. As a teacher. At Dean’s school. As his _coworker_.
> 
> As if being neighbors wouldn’t have made for enough of a messy break-up, now there’s also the fact that the dude he’s in love with works next door too?!
> 
> It’s time to be an adult. To figure out if what he has with Cas is real. Because shit just got really, _really_ real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, at long last—here is the second installment!
> 
> Seriously, I could not be more excited about the response, the enthusiasm you guys have given me about this fic, and I am the happiest of happy authors! If you'll notice, I've changed the chapter numbers: originally, I was going to mark it complete as I posted new parts (example: this would be (2/2) but because I actually have the rest figured out, I decided to let everyone know the predicted amount of installments ahead of time :) That's the minimum, there could be one more, I'm not sure yet.
> 
> I know not many of you follow me on tumblr (paperannxo — for the curious folks), so I need to address something I write there about this part/my issues with posting. I need both your understanding and patience.
> 
> With the Big Bangs, Challenges and the Bingos I've been doing lately, and as a multi-ship gal, I'm doing my best to alternate pairings so everyone gets a fic :) I do have Sabriel and Wincest readers, and laaawd, do I love you, my Destiel readers! I promise, if you see the other ships updating, there's a Destiel fic in the horizon, I'm not ditching out or changing my focus, I'm making sure that every single one of you guys gets new material!
> 
> That being said...
> 
> I've been self-editing basically all my works lately. I don't have the man-power that I used to when it comes to betas, and therefore I can't publish as much as I'd like. It's a bummer, because I've got so much material. Instead, I'm re-reading, editing and re-editing all of my works and still worry about mistakes when they go up. It's the best I can do.
> 
> _This fic was on my beta's docket._ But I've been getting tons of comments, asks, messages about the next part. So instead of rushing my darling gal, I decided to do what I've been doing, and self-edit. I know you guys are as excited about this story as I am, so this was the best way to get it to you.
> 
> Because of that, all mistakes are my own and (hopefully) they're minimal! 
> 
> FYI—the next chapter is long. I really, truly won't be able to make any guesses or projections about the posting date on that one. This installment, by itself, was spontaneous. The next one (due to length and plot shenanigans) I will want someone other than myself reading it over :)
> 
> I love you all so much! Enjoy some angst with a happy ending and let me know whatcha think <3

****While the teacher’s first-day-of-school presentation droned on as glorified background noise, Dean and Charlie rushed to their seats.  You know, after avoiding a full-out catastrophic scene that only _Dean_ knew had been narrowly derailed.  For now.

Charlie was tugging him closer and hissing in his ear, “What the flip, dude?!  What’s going on?”

Except, Dean couldn’t focus on her.  He’d already locked eyes with Cas in moment of absolute and utter panic.    
  
After being introduced to the faculty beside to Ellen at the podium, Cas was dismissed.  He followed the pair to the empty seat next to them (of friggin course, with Dean's luck there was a vacant chair he could plop down into!), Cas' eyes flashed in distress.  Dammit, the guy always knew what it took to talk Dean off the ledge, but not this time.    
  
Hell no, Dean had already toppled _over_ the edge, and there was nothing Cas could do to pull him back, not a word that would change things—

Still, Cas quickly sat down next to him and instinctively placed his hand on Dean’s thigh—only to remember the crowd of coworkers—and withdrew it.  “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Wait, you know each other?” Charlie demanded, but when Dean instantly shot her a look, her mouth slammed shut.  
  
Dean focused blankly forward.  Attempting to summon up the tunnel vision he needed to block the rest of the world out.  
  
Not looking at his so-called, possible-ex, now-coworker, their-lives-have-been-lies-Castiel.  
  
Except, he had this problem, right?  Dean couldn't ever really take his eyes off Cas.  Call it an issue with...impulse control.  Trying to do it felt like pulling teeth and there were so many unanswered questions.

This was something (huge) between him and Cas, and no matter how hard he tried to swallow his words, Dean needed to get them out.

He turned his head, yet continued to gaze ahead, hissing, “So this was why you were so busy?  I thought you were break—”  He couldn’t say ‘breaking up with me.’  Not in front of eavesdropping teachers: they couldn’t know about their relationship.  Maybe-relationship.  Whatever.

Fuck, everything made sense!  Dean’s insecurities were for nothing beyond his own internal torture.  If he’d simply asked Cas, like a normal boyfriend, he wouldn’t be on the verge of a heart attack.

Cas, stupid, perfect Cas, with all his concern.  And his furrowed, worry brow scrunched up, while he leaned in with a whisper, asking, “Why else would I be?  What did you think?”

“Nothing.”  It was terse.  
  
Because it raised a whole new point _—_ why _hadn’t_ this been brought up?

Dean’s panic turned a shade darker, he was expecting the worst.  Had Cas known?  Did he find out and then try to finagle some distance, slap it in-between the two of them?  Were they too much too soon?  Was the reality of the eventual amount of time they’d spend together (both as neighbors and teachers) too daunting and it had freaked Cas out?  He probably knew he couldn't handle that much of Dean—how could he blame him?—so the process of letting him down slowly began.

Oh, Cas didn't look like he was giving up, the stubborn pain in the ass!  Instead of taking a hint, he urged, “We need to speak.  As soon as this is over.  We’re lacking clarity—”

“We’re lackin’ a lot more than that,” Dean growled, because the more he thought about it, he wasn’t entirely to blame—

“Gentlemen?” Ellen’s booming voice cut through the room.  “Are you educators?  Or children?  Do you need to be separated?”

“Nah, we’re good, Miss Harvelle!  Sorry ‘bout that!”  Dean flashed his brightest, most charming smile and a quick wave.

Warily, Ellen crossed her arms.  “Good.  Moving on, from West Virginia, let me introduce to you…” and her words began to fade all over again.

Dean’s head was somewhere else entirely.  Fighting to grab hold of the situation.  He was stunned that the man he loved was sitting next to him by some twist of fate.  Yes, he knew damn well Cas was worried about him.    
  
Except…it felt as though they’d truly been living double-lives.  As though they’d lied to each other by omission, or some shit.  Okay, all this sounded dramatic, but Dean couldn’t shake the way he was feeling.  He couldn't snap his fingers and put to rest the swirling reasons they were in this situation to begin with.  He was allowed to be dramatic, dammit!  
  
Did they even know each other at all?  Was what they had real if they’d managed to wind up here?  Like _this_?

Dean felt a poke in his side and glanced down to see a note in Cas’ handwriting, reading:

_‘Are you upset about not being able to spend last night together?’_

Waitaminute.  Like...Cas didn’t understand that this whole shock-of-a-lifetime, clusterfuck-of-a-surprise situation was the reason Dean was upset?  Cas honestly thought Dean was acting this way because Cas said no to _sex_?  What the hell—!

When he looked up and Cas was nailing him those puppy eyes, Dean snapped.

He grabbed the note, deliberately shredded it into pieces as Cas watched, smashed it down into a little compact ball and chucked it across the room.

One of the other teachers (Ruby: who was a friggin bitch on Mondays) looked over her shoulder, back at the trio.  With her arm slung over the chair, her eyes locked with Dean's and narrowed.  Ruby, snippy, per usual, rolled her eyes.  “Crappy throw, Dean.  Did you even _try_ for the trashcan?  Pick up your mess.”

“You know what?  I will!” Dean surged to his feet and retrieved the stupid wad.

Instead of stopping at the garbage, Dean dunked it and kept right on moving.    
  
Out of the cafeteria.  Down the hallway.  And directly outside into the fresh air.  
  
He needed a chance to catch his breath and gather his bearings.  This was all too much, too quickly, and he couldn’t have a goddamn breakdown in front of his colleagues on their first day back.  These were people whose company he (mostly) enjoyed, they all had formed bonds over the time Dean had worked at the school and they'd know.  If something was off, they'd know, and bringing drama to school wasn't an educator's place.  They were supposed to be solving these kinds of issues alongside the students, _for_ the students.  
  
...Well, not these _specific_ issues, of course.  Especially for Elementary School, _dear Lord_.

Dean was hunched over the park bench at the edge of the playground, when he heard his name.  But…it wasn’t Charlie’s voice—it was Cas.

“Dean, tell me what’s happening,” he all but begged.  Now that they were outside and away from prying eyes, he took Dean’s hands into his the second he could.  Cas scooted in close, letting their knees touch when he admitted, “I’m at a loss.  I understand this was, heh, quite the surprise.  I had no idea you were an educator.  But why is this a bad thing, as I feel you're viewing it?  We can—”

“ _Because_ , Cas,” Dean steeled his resolve and stared him dead in the eyes.  “I fell in love with you.  Then, out of nowhere, you started putting up this…wall.  And now, okay, I know that it was you doing your work.  Doing your job.  But if I hadn’t figured that out today?  It looked a helluva lot like a breakup.”  He went in for the kill, ice-cold when he pronounced, “Did you _mean it_ as a breakup?  If we continued at the pace we were going without this turn of events, I gotta feelin' that's where we would've ended up.  And now that you can’t distance us, like you planned, are you grasping at straws?  Scrambling for a Plan B?  Tell me the truth.”

Cas’ eyes went widen and dropped to their joined hand, then back up to Dean’s intimidating gaze.  “I honestly hadn’t read into it as you did.  I assumed that time would pass, I'd continue my work, as I had many, many tasks to prepare for—not only being in a new district, but a new state—”

“You were waiting.  To see if I could deal with space between us, handle being put at arm's length.”  Dean’s expression hardened even further with the dawning realization of, “If you didn’t know I was an educator...what the fuck did you think I did?  Oh, hold up now, I _finally_ get it!  I was being a lazy bum over the summer, and even though you didn't know the reason—that meant a lazy bum wasn't good enough for you.  You _were_ trying to get rid of me!”

“No, _no_ , I was doing my job and seeing where things went,” Cas pleaded, grappling to hang on when Dean tore away from his hold.

With heaving breaths, Dean’s only escape now was back into that fucking auditorium.  He made a break for it.

Cas’ shouted confession of, “Dean, I love you!” caused him to stumble in his step.

Slowly, Dean stopped and turned around to face him.  “Then you owe me the whole, unedited truth, _Castiel Novak_.  And until you can tell me your real plan, how much you knew and what was going on in your head?  I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dean knew he’d stabbed Cas deep when the color drained from his face, but he repeated, “I do love you, Dean.  And I will tell you.  Can we…walk back in there like adults?”

“Fuck no,” Dean snorted, and stalked off.  “Do you even know me at all?” and he left Cas in the dust, attempting not to look foolish as he stomped away, taking the longest strides he could manage to get the hell outta dodge.

All of this was too confusing and Dean wanted nothing to do with the situation or Cas right now.  So he went back to what he was _supposed_ to do today.  He couldn’t be preoccupied and overwhelmed with anxiety about a break-up in the making.  Dean was supposed to be honed in on, you know, his damn _job_.  He was here at the school for that, not for Cas.  That was a giant fluke of a complication.

\-------------------------

Dean managed to get through the rest of the ‘Welcome Back’ meeting with minimal damage.  When he trudged back into the auditorium, he moved to sit on the other side of Charlie.  She’d act as the wedge in-between him and Cas if the guy got any funny ideas.

Thank God, he took the hint.

It wasn’t until Ellen was nearly finished officially handing out the classroom assignments, that Dean came close to having another...'episode.'

First Grade.  That age happened to be close to Dean’s heart and he freakin’ adored the little tykes.  Each grade was always divided between four homerooms—four teachers—who acted as a team.

This year, it was Dean (who visibly showed his excitement and profusely thanked Ellen for the consideration), Charlie (hell yeah, he loved chatting out lesson plans with her), Anna (an unfortunate ex-girlfriend of Dean’s and things were still…weird, but he could deal), and Castiel fucking Novak (Dean paled and  _painfully_ deflated).

Since Ellen was beginning at the bottom and working her way up, Dean had a lot of time (too much time) to sit there and brood.  Sulk about _exactly_ how closely the four of them would be working together this year.    
  
How many meetings they would be having.  How their classrooms would interact.  How they liked the recesses to align.  How they’d have the same scheduled lunches in the breakroom.  It was a constant recipe for disaster.  
  
And to think: if this was any other year, Dean’s biggest concern would be _Anna_.  Her being weird and trying to flirt with him, lure him in.  That tension, stemming from Dean knowing damn well she wanted him back, but thankfully, couldn't make a move at school.  Nope, Dean actually managed to top that awkwardness and this year was projected to be so much worse.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Dean was stuck as Cas’ neighbor, he was stuck with him as a coworker.  And not just any coworker.  A friggin colleague, a teammate, that he would see and constantly collaborate with.  Every.  Goddamn. Day.

He needed Charlie.    
  
One look to her in SOS mode had her head eagerly bobbing—she had put together all the pieces during Cas and Dean's game of chase as the presentation was continuing.  Charlie very quickly understood the gravity of the situation (she could read Dean easier than one of her comic books) and mouthed the words ‘lunch plotting.’  
  
Something as easy as her show of support, knowing he had his best friend on his side, it made Dean feel better and like he stood a chance.  The strain in his tightly crunched-up shoulders relaxed when she patted him and shot Dean a knowing smile.  
  
If there was anyone who could save him from a full-on spiral: it was Charlie.  She’d put things into perspective, create a genius game plan, and be the life-jacket that made sure he didn’t drown in deep waters.  Like always.

“All right, everyone, you’re dismissed for lunch.  Mingle, get to know the new members of the staff!” Ellen encouraged.  “You’ve got an hour.  When you get back, you’ll meet with your team and then begin setting up your homerooms.  Don’t be late, I’ll see you then.”

The words were like an alarm, both Charlie and Dean springing to their feet.  Even if Dean was ready to run and full-out book it away from Cas before he followed…the man remained in his seat with his hands folded and his head down.

Shit.  Dean felt the niggling beginnings of guilt.

It wasn’t like Dean could fall out of love with Cas in a goddamn hour, okay?!  His initial gut-response was to scoop Cas up in his arms and kiss him.  Tell Cas they would work this out.  That they’d be okay.

Yeah, while he’d been planning on sprinting like an Olympian, things changed in an instant.  Dean couldn’t help it when he stopped in his tracks, he had to (there was no friggin choice) turn back around.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice perked up the other teacher (wow, he was still getting used to that) like a damn Meerkat—there was this glimmering hope in his eyes—while that wasn’t Dean’s intention.  “We’ll, uh, talk about our classes soon.  Char and I are going to get lunch.  By the way, this is Charlie Bradbury, my best friend.  Charlie, this is Cas.”  He figured he may as well do an introduction while he was at it.  “We’ll all wind up being close this year.”

All gentlemanly, Cas stood up tall and extended his hand towards Charlie, who remained a block in the middle, acting as the perfect bubbly, friendly buffer.  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Bradbury.  I quite enjoy first grade.  It’ll be my sixth year teaching this age group. I look forward to working with you.”

“Aw, call me Charlie.”  She shook his hand with a wide smile and exclaimed, “Six years, huh?  I think you’ve racked up the most experience when it comes to numbers.  We do things different to spice it up at the school, here.  Like switch around our grades basically every year.  Although,” she elbowed Dean in the side, teasing, “Ellen’s got a soft spot for this one!  Dean usually gets whatever he wants.  Even if he had to annoy someone to death to get it.”

Cas’ smile was fond when he agreed, “I’ve come realize that about Dean, yes.  We‘re neighbors, actually.  I got to know him over the summer.”

Charlie locked up, motionless, finally putting the final (most critical) piece of the puzzle together.  Which meant it was time to abort this chit-chat before she accidentally spewed out something that _everyone_ regretted.

Dean laughed mechanically and punched out, “Always a joker, you!  Hey, I’m hungry as hell, let’s go, Charlie.”

“Uh, yeah, let’s!”  She was being herded like stubborn, frozen cattle by Dean more than walking on her own, still gaping at Cas.  “Y-you want anything, Cas?  We can grab you take out.  I’m sure Dean has your number and—”

“Shut up,” he snarled, and automatically said, “I’ll text you, Cas!” then cursed himself for falling right into Charlie’s ploy!

Dammit, this wasn’t good!

\------------------------

“Holy.  Shit.  At first, I thought you guys watching each other and chasing the other’s tail meant it was a bar hook-up, but no.”  Charlie was positively alight with glee.  “So _this_ is the neighbor you said you’ve be pining for.  Gazing longingly at, out of your window, all lovelorn?  Even though quote, ‘You got your heart broke and should’ve known it was a summer fling.’”  Sometimes, Charlie confused carefree teasing with her own unconditional happiness (at Dean’s expense) when she relayed, “You _also_ proudly told me he was gorgeous, a hit in the sack, and sweet but you fizzled?   _Honey_ ,” she drew out the word patronizingly.

Dean braced for impact, grabbing his fountain drink, preparing himself for anything, “Yeah, lay it on me!”

“What I saw?  Was still fireworks.  Nothing, I mean _nothing_ has fizzled!  Damn, that hunk’a man has got it bad for you!”  She fanned herself for theatrical effect.  “Did you see how he was following you around like a little duckling?  Checking every second to see if you were okay, what the problem was, if you were still even _sitting_ beside me?  Seriously, I approve.”

Dean forcefully held himself back from slamming his head on the table.  And banging it, over and over.  Maybe things would finally get knocked into place and he'd be able to see clearly...  
  
Instead, he took a deep breath, pushing the to-go bag aside (yes, he was a sucker and had carryout for Cas) so he didn’t knock it over when he went to town talking with his hands.  All he could do was hope he explained the truth to Charlie and the weight of the situation.  Dean wasn't sure it had sunken in with her yet.

“I see it now.  But…Cas was setting me up!  Like, we didn’t know each other’s profession until just fucking _hours_ ago.  Maybe we were both caught up, doing our classroom layouts and paperwork.  But _he_ didn’t know that, and _I_ still tried to make time.  For us.  Cas didn't, he just said he was busy but clearly, he didn't tell me what _kind_ of busy.  I...just trusted him, after all, I was busy, too.  What if that was his way of blowing me off, leaving this…‘thing’ alone to cool, so he could, I dunno, let me down gently?  It’s shady, is what it is.”  Dean blew a raspberry through his lips.  “Char, I am head over heels in love with him.  But…do I really know him?”

“You know him well enough to love who he is,” she easily pointed out.  “Who cares about what labels come on the box?  You already know who he is inside, at his core.  That, sir, is more important than anything in the fine print.”

Charlie looked like she had more to say and Dean was waiting.  He made a motion for her to continue, but she looked apprehensive.  They were running low on time, Dean having to breakdown the timeline of his and Cas' love affair from the moment they met, straight up until now to get her reflections.  Whew, there was a lot of ground to cover and Dean felt this annoying, itchy, gross..nostalgia.    
  
He fucking hated it, but taking about Cas—it could never be black and white—not when Cas' touch had the ability to make Dean _feel_ color.    
  
Still...Charlie appeared like there was still a ‘something.’  Dean couldn't remember a 'something' ever working out in his favor, so why would it now? 

Dean’s face scrunched into a frown.  “I’m not gonna like it.  What’s on yer mind.  Get it over with!  Cas needs, like, ten minutes to eat this, you know!”

“Then another fifteen before exercising,” she quipped with a waggle of eyebrows.

Dean accused, “That’s not right, and you’re avoiding the point!”

Charlie groaned in defeat and collapsed back in the chair.  “All right!  Just…I’d be pissed, too.  From what I know about him—from what you’ve told me—he’s got this weird quirk about being very literal.  So maybe he’s oblivious about the entire process of ‘letting you down easy.’  Still, it _kinda_ sounds like it could’ve been a test.  Perhaps an experiment to see how you fared...for a break-up.  Or consideration for a break-up.”

“So I’ve got a right to be mad!”  Dean thumped the table with his fist and a sense of victory.  “Great!  Now, uh, where do I go from here?”

“You said you already gave him that ultimatum, right?” she was both reminding him and leading him.  “I think that’ll give you the truth.  If he wants to stay together, which I can tell he totally does.  Because I have _eyes_ , Dean.  Then he’ll be honest.  Doesn’t seem like he has any hang-ups about honesty, you know?”

Dean scoffed and wiped a hand down his face.  “Don’t I know it—he’s too honest.  That’s why avoiding me, or not going straight to me about any potential problems in the first place was so damn dodgy.”

Charlie grinned and leaned on her palm.  “Yeah, he’ll totes come clean.  Gotta do it for the ones you love, right?”

“I don’t even know if he loves me…” Dean grumbled under his breath, “The first and _only_ time he said it was outside this morning.   _Directly_ after I laid into him about all our shit, wondering if there was even an us anymore.  It felt like his own Hail Mary.”

“You don’t lie and say I love you to smooth things over for a casual fling, dude.”  She got up, leaned across the table and flicked him in the ear. “No sex is good enough to liberally apply the ‘L’ word to grease the wheels.”  Charlie grabbed the take out and waved them towards the door.  “Have _you_ ever done that to keep a booty call?”

“God, no!”  Dean was offended she’d even suggest that, following close behind.

“See?  And you’re a smooth talker.  Castiel?  Not so much.  No way he’d say it if he didn’t mean it.”

Damn Charlie, her logic, and how everything out of her mouth made sense.

Dean unlocked the Impala and they both hopped in, out of time from hanging out and chatting.  Plus, Cas was probably hungry.  Dean and his natural doting nonsense kicked in and he texted Cas an ‘ _on our way_ ’ before he shifted gears and hit the road.

“Hold onto that tight, okay?” Dean warned Charlie, pointing to the food.  “I do not need that crap stinking up or staining my Baby!”

“Mm, that about the car or Cas?” she purred in response.

“Shut your pie hole.”

Dean was reconsidering his choice to let Charlie in on every dirty detail of the classified information…  Although having someone in his corner was priceless, invaluable.  Someone who listened and could give advice.  Damn good advice.  Except now, Charlie and he had mutually agreed: all Dean could do was to wait.  
  
Waiting games always blew.

\----------------------

After Anna, Cas, Charlie and Dean spit-balled about any and all group activities they wanted to do as a team, the rest of the day was about setting up and readying their own individual rooms.  They were empty besides the pile-up of tables, chairs and desks in the corner.  The scent of chemicals were heavy in the air—the cleaning crew giving the school a deep, final scrub-down before the teachers (and eventually students) would arrive.    
  
Items had to be pulled out of storage, and most of the day was devoted to hunting them down.  The records from the last teacher were shoddy, at best.  Dean was also called upon by Anna and Charlie, doing the dirty work of ladder-climbing and book-stack-carrying because of his 'manliness.'  He appreciated the distraction.  
  
Dean needed this, he needed the alone time with his desk, a giant space full of potential—this was a blank canvas for his creative vision to manifest within the upcoming week's time.

Whether that week dragged on or flashed by, soon enough the kids would be filing this joint with the energy, love of life and imagination—then, Dean wouldn’t have to worry about _anything._   He'd have the kids and nothing but the kids _—_ there was nothing better to get lost in than something as simple as crisscross-apple-sauce with circled up story time.    
  
He had to remind himself that everything now was temporary.  Tentative.  It could change in a flash, either for the better or it’d be…gone.

Dean...could handle it, he had to, he was a grown-ass man.  He’d been dealt bad hands before and he bluffed his way through them until he was ready to play another round.

He was pulling some of the recess toys out from his own room's storage closet.  Dean was immersed, counting how many kick-balls needed inflating and the number of jump-ropes that needed cleaning, when there was a knock on the door.

Honestly, it could have been anyone, but when he saw Cas, his chest tightened up.  “Hey…what’s up?”

Watching Cas shut _and_ lock the door behind?     
  
Those actions were infinity more foreboding.    
  
Dean didn’t like this.  Nope.  Not at all.  He was about to shout out, call Charlie as fuckin’ back-up—but then again, all one-hundred pounds of her couldn’t _exactly_ kick down a door, let alone with enough force to break the lock with it...

“Hello, Dean.  I understand that I should have waited until the end of the day, but I couldn’t allow us to linger in this…limbo, of sorts, any longer,” Cas admitted self-consciously, running a hand through his hair.  “Can we please, please talk?”

“Think you already made the decision for me, didn’t you?” Dean gestured to his barricaded way out and groaned.  “Couldn’t have held out for another hour?”

Cas walked forward, closing in on him.  “You and I both know it wouldn’t have been another hour.”    
  
When Cas reached out to take Dean’s hand, Dean took two steps back, sitting on one of the small desks.  He made it very clear he was digging his heels in, Dean wasn’t about to be coaxed or romanced into anything.  Not until he had his answers.  
  
With a sigh, Cas followed suit.  “You have a long ritual when you get home.  Showering, pajamas, ordering take-out, watching a few episodes of your Netflix shows.  Then comes us.  At the end of the night, every night.”

Dean winced, because that insinuation, it didn’t sound good.  The worst part was that it was true.  “Um, is that a problem?  Is there…something you’d want to change?”

“I’ve tried before, you know.  When you come over, have you ever noticed that I like to begin things much, much earlier than you?” Cas’ eyebrow was arched as a challenge, and Dean already knew he was fucking in for it.  “I want our lives to be more involved.  I want to talk about our days over dinner.  I want us to be affectionate on the couch, and then, yes, I’d like to end the night in bed.  Making love.  You enjoy skipping to that last part, and it made me reconsider where I stand with you,” Cas continued to point out, “If we had dinner, spoke about our days…perhaps we wouldn’t be here.  In this mess.  I’d…like to hear your thoughts.”

“Shit,” Dean grumbled and crossed his ankles, noticing he’d been kicking his feet in the awkward tension of it all.  “I never realized that.  Any of it.  Not until you pointed it out.  Uh, listen, Cas.”

This time, maybe in an attempt to show he wasn’t all about the ‘happy ending,’ that they were _not_ meant to be made exclusively wham-bam-thank-you-man stuff (God, Cas was worth so much more), Dean took initiative.  This time, he reached across the space between the desks and grabbed Cas’ hand.  Thank fuck Cas allowed it, he hung on Dean’s every word with rapt attention.  Like one of Dean’s students. The irony of being inside the classroom was killing him…

“It’s been a really, really long time since I’ve been in a relationship.  And while I _hoped_ that’s what we had, I wasn’t going to assume anything.  Ya know, summer flings are just summer flings for a reason.  I didn’t know what you were looking for, or if you found it in me, like...I _hoped_.  Then when you put that distance between us _—_ I figured I was right.  That it was a _fling_ for you, while _I_ realized I wanted us to be _together_.  And it, like, gutted me,” Dean said in a fleeting moment of vulnerability.  
  
Dean’s voice was hushed when he said, “I want all those things.  Now that you said it, now that it's out in the open, knowing it's actually an option?  Fuck yeah, I want ‘em with you.  Give me dinner, Netflix and chill, all that couple-y stuff.  God, I'd love every single second.  But you’ve gotta answer my one question.”

Both Cas’ hand and his back went rigid.   
  
Well, shit, it looked like Dean could’ve gotten his answer from that knee-jerk reaction alone, but he craved verbal confirmation more than anything.  Cas' admission.  He needed to hear the words.  Dean needed to know what went wrong, what happened in Cas’ head.

So Dean ducked forward closer, nearly enough to brush his nose against Cas’ ear when he whispered, “Were you expecting, planning on that move to break us up?  And why did you want it to?  What was the make-it or break-it thing that…broke it?  Made you _want_ to break us?”

“First, I am so happy you do wish for a relationship, I cannot express my feelings in words,” Cas' smile was here one second and gone the next, ping-ponging back and forth, when he squeezed Dean’s hand, it felt genuine.  Tender.  “Second…I thought that if our relationship was merely sexual, you’d quit _—_ give up and move on.  Maybe I wanted to see how you’d respond.  Your commitment, or rather potential commitment to us.”

“I get it: you were testing how deep we were in it.  Guess what?  We’ve established it’s really, really fuckin’ deep.  But _what_ made you do it?  What made you wanna challenge us to begin with?  What was your epiphany, dude?” Dean was getting frustrated.  "It doesn't matter how bright the future looks if yer gonna lie and avoid the past."  
  
Over and over, Cas continued to avoid the key point, the root of everything.  All he had to say was some simple sentence, to give Dean a simple answer, and Cas couldn’t spit it out!  Dean didn’t understand _why_ _—_

“When I met you, it was in the middle of an afternoon and you were drunk enough to have unintentionally forgotten a shirt.  It was…endearing.  Except, all summer long, I can’t even begin to estimate how many evenings you’d come over, or vise-versa, intoxicated.  Although, those occurred when we’re being spontaneous _—_ not when we’ve planned dates.  You’re always quite respectful of those—”

“Woah!  You wanted to break up with me because you thought I was a deadbeat alcoholic?” Dean exploded and pulled away from Cas’ grip altogether.

“No!  Not _really_.  I…I had no idea what you did for a living!  I never saw you work a single day _—_ which makes perfect sense now, in retrospect _—_ but at the time my mind was running wild with other scenarios.  Ideas about collecting unemployment, winning some kind of settlement, a trust fund baby—” he sputtered out, but he was digging a deeper and deeper hole, as far as Dean was concerned.  
  
He was about to punt Cas' ass right down into that grave and friggin bury him!

“And you didn’t think to—I don’t know— _ask me_?”  Oh yeah, Dean was beyond offended, and while he didn’t need to explain himself, he went off ranting, “You, of all people, should know better than anyone!  Summer is the one time we can kick back, relax, and not worry about consequences.  Not worry about ‘corrupting young minds.’  Sure, I drank a lot a home, but do you know _why_?  So I wouldn’t run into little Tommy or Sally’s mom at a restaurant or bar!  So I can stay in their good graces, hold onto their _respect_ , while I have a good time.  Being fucking sequestered at home to make sure I don't run into the PTA?   _Not_ as awesome as you may think!”

Dean sneered out, “Clearly, _you_ have the same idea of what vacation's for.   _You_ were banging some random dude you barely knew all summer long.  Even when you thought he was a massive loser who spent all his time and his trust-fund-baby-money getting plastered—”

“I never called you a loser.”  A fire had been lit under Cas’ ass, and he jumped off the desk to his feet.  “And I understand, I should have asked, but what if I had been right?  What if I got an answer I didn’t want to hear?  I didn’t want to break up with you!  I’d rather put space between us and see if this was something we both thought was worth fighting for, Dean.”

“It’s sure something worth fighting _about_ ,” Dean followed Cas’ example and matched him standing tall.  Except, he didn’t stop moving, he crossed the room and headed to the door.  Dean unlocked it and held it open. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.  Thank you for answering my questions truthfully.  Finally.”

Each stride was long, slow and defeated.  Cas stopped just shy of the door, then very abruptly yanked Dean _behind_ it.  He was slammed against the wall, away from prying eyes, and it startled the crap out of him.

Silenced with a bold, soulful and passionately fuckin’ _epic_ kiss.

Dean wouldn’t deny the small squeak of alarm he made when Cas moved in for the kill.  This was the last thing he thought Cas would want after that tongue-lashing, but it appeared it only warmed his tongue up for something _better_.  And, shit, if Dean couldn’t keep his lips or his hands to himself—

He was wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck in no time, tangling his fingers through the hair at the base of Cas’ head and hauling them closer.  It hadn’t even been—what was it?  Three? Four?—a handful of days since they'd been together, but it seemed like an eternity.  Especially, because they _never_ fought.  They just didn’t do it, they were too in-tuned with each other and when they were together, well...

This happened.

Cas eventually (reluctantly) pulled away, he was utterly breathless, panting to fill his lung with air.  And rock-hard in his pants.  It was like staring into a mirror for Dean, he was in the exact same shape, and he cursed himself for being sucked back in so damn easily!

“You know all the tricks, don’t you?” Dean chuckled, kissing Cas again, because he hadn’t let go and he could.  “What am I gonna do with you?”

Oh, Cas was beautifully flushed.  His eyes darkened with a blaze of lust dancing in those gorgeous slivers of blue, flickering between Dean’s own and his lips.  He cleared his throat and proposed, “Hopefully, you forgive your boyfriend for his amateur, ass-like guesswork?  Even though he may not openly be your boyfriend on school grounds, he’d very much like to make that step.  Become a bigger part of your life, outside your nine to five.”

Dean's knees were weakened by the words, he wanted to melt.  This was everything he’d hoped for and wished for them.  Naturally, it wasn’t delivered under the greatest of circumstances, the timing was shit, but his heart was still soaring.  It was rejoicing, pounding at the speed of sound, doing back-flips in his chest.    
  
Slowly, Dean’s arms softened from their ravenous grip, releasing Cas and draping softly over his shoulders instead.  He watched Cas with an intense scrutiny, not because he didn’t believe (his fierce conviction was yet another thing that made Dean’s cock twitch in enthusiasm) but to see how Cas would respond.

Dammit, those beautiful blue eyes had changed from scorching desire to pure affection: beaming all these warm and fuzzy things at Dean.  While he wished he could’ve blurted out ‘Hah, too little, too late!’ it wasn’t.  Not by a long shot.

“I’ll take your suggestion into consideration,” Dean decided and stepped away.  
  
Anytime Dean was this close, he was running a risk.  He was _too_ damn _tempted_ , and Cas had already broken the rule (or rather, the _seal_ ) about being naughty on school grounds.  It wasn’t even the end of the first friggin day!

After a second of deliberating and watching Cas head to exit, Dean piped up, “Hey.  Your place or mine tonight?”

Complete and utter relief, followed by sheer joy washed over Cas.  Wow, he looked like a new man.  “Whichever you’d like, Dean.  Text me a time and a place.”  He glanced around the classroom and admitted, “I apologize for interrupting you.  I won’t be so brash again.  I…honestly think we’ll enjoy working together.  I’m looking forward to it.”

Flashing a grin, Cas gave Dean a nod and he was out the door.

Even though it had been one hell of a rollercoaster, Dean felt _worlds_  better.  He felt this bone-deep kind of optimism, and he realized that Charlie had been right.  You never told someone you loved them to keep a friends-with-benefits relationship ongoing.  Cas was nothing if not unyieldingly passionate about them, about fighting _for them._    
  
Well, _after_ he recognized his huge mistake.  It turned into wishing, regretting, needing to take back every second of his assumption.  Because Cas cared just as much as Dean did in the middle of this blow-up misunderstanding.

The good thing was: everything clicked.

Everything made so much sense now that the lights had been turned on.    
  
The kicker was that Cas was truly, honest-to-God as serious about them as Dean.    
  
Hell, in the process of everything falling apart?  Cas (the little shit) actually managed to make _Dean_ sound like the playboy, the culprit not taking them seriously.  He imagined Dean was there to hit-it-and-quit-it, which was nuts!    
  
All that talk about being alone, not including Cas in any of his activities, right up until Dean was horny and ready to get horizontal?

It just…wasn’t right.  It was something that needed fixing, and he could do that _—_ he _l_ _onged_ to do that.

Dean had assumed that Cas valued his space.  That the prospect of always being together, getting dinner and cuddling up on the couch, it would be too much too soon.  …Cas had a different idea.  Funny thing, Dean could totally get down with that.   _And_ the whole new official "boyfriends" label.  That actually gave him chills.

Yes, in the end he was glad that Cas had broke, confronted him in the classroom where there was no place for Dean to run.  Who knew how their confrontation would have gone down if there was an easy exit at someone’s home?  It would be far too easy to leave than to wait for the end.  Running was something Dean had become good at after his other heartbreaks.  
  
Today had a different outcome—Dean believed today that everything happens for a reason (when he normally considered that phrase bullshit), and now he had his reason.

…Plus, a boyfriend.  That was kinda badass, too.

\-----------------------

It was accurate to say Dean was the kind of guy who held onto things too tight.  Who let them eat away at him, continuously punching holes in him, until there was nothing left.  Oh, that _and_ how he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Even though he couldn’t get over to Cas’ as early as he wanted to because of homework (yes, he did want to make some changes and small renovations to the classroom after his little interruption) Dean did something he’d never been able to do before in his life.

Since it was late and they had to get up early for work in the morning, they inevitably ended up (dove was more like it) in Cas’ bed.

That _lovely_ dive unavoidable to two reasons.    
  
One—and the biggest motivator—was prompted by the first, greeted words from Dean’s mouth when he traipsed inside.  The house already unlocked for him _—_ always feeling like home.  
  
He leaned on the door frame in the living room, and fearlessly called out to Cas, “Let’s forget this ever happened, boyfriend,” and he _actually meant it_.

Dean had never in his life been able to let something go just like that, big or small.  He realized (or rather, knew in his heart) that Cas was worth fighting for, he was worth everything.  Dean refused to screw this up because of pride, because of a misunderstanding, now that they both knew how they felt about each other.

Which landed them at the second reason…

Make-up sex was _awesome_.

And it wasn’t the usual, run-of-the-mill make-up sex—if that was even a thing.  Holy hell, it was _so_ much _better_.

As Cas pumped his hips into Dean’s body—kissing his neck, chest, and lips obsessively—he was bold, unafraid as the husky, “I love you, Dean Winchester,” was whispered over and over, on repeat.  Cas was obsessed, making certain those words got through to Dean and he, well...he'd never felt this cherished with anyone before, another first in his lifetime.

Now that they could say those words, they didn’t hold them back.

The frenzy of passion was making love, overshadowing the intent of what began as make-up sex.  If they had it their way, given the choice, their mouths would never stop rendering the other breathless.    
  
Then again, Dean needed that strong inhale, filling his lungs, to shout out, “Goddammit, I love you—” in return, Cas’ cock relentlessly pounding his prostate.

They moved in harmony on an intimate, connected level where they truly felt one.  The pair was together and joined in an overpowering way _—_ they completely lost _themselves_ in the moment _—_ yet found _each other_.    
  
Of course, they’d had their fair share of fantastic sex, all across the spectrum, but something about tonight was special—it was unique.

Cas’ rumbling, desperate, “Fuck, need to watch you—” was Dean’s only warning before Cas used a straight-up erotic show of strength to maneuver Dean into his lap.    
  
Cas always, _always_ could read him and knew when he was close: whether it was the way Dean moaned his name like a prayer, the way his breathing hitched or the feeling of his hole clenching and spasming around his cock—Cas had a sixth sense.

While Dean was technically in the position to ride his boyfriend, arms now looped tightly around Cas’ neck with his feet underneath him, that’s not how it turned out.  
  
Cas took advantage of all the leverage, of both their weights being upright.  The angle he chose made Dean fuckin’ useless, powerless, and Cas used it happily to drive his boyfriend insane.  He continued pounding into him, the heady dizzy feeling swiftly creeping in, and Dean couldn’t hold back the cries of pleasure.

Tonight was mind-blowing, it was a miracle he'd lasted this long.  Dean been completely (delightfully _thoroughly_ ) worshiped by hands, kissed from head to toe, there was also that _thing_ Cas’ had done with his tongue—oh, and now he was winding Dean up for a knock-out of an orgasm—

“You’re amazing, babe.  So fucking amazing.  Don’t wanna fight, don’t wanna lose you, never—” Dean’s words melted away into babbling noise instead, and he could feel Cas speeding into his own last-hurrah.

“And you won't,“ Cas’ mouth clamped down on Dean’s exposed neck while they both came, promising a gasped, “I’m not going anywhere.  I’m _yours_.”

Those words sizzled through every damn nerve, muscle, cell in Dean's body, propelling him well beyond overdrive.

Dean officially decided, while completely wrapped up in Cas and basking in the afterglow: making love was _awesome_.    
  
Definitely not as cheesy as it sounded, not by a long shot.  It was intense, friggin _staggering_ , both physically and emotionally, and Dean was almost certain he was gonna spend the majority of tomorrow at his desk sitting down.  …He may have pulled something.    
  
Oh, _that_ orgasm?  Being back with Cas and everything working out?   _So_ worth it.

“We did it,” Dean whispered with a grin.  “We made it through our first fight alive.”

Cas sounded so sure when he said, “First and last.  I don’t wish to repeat that anytime soon,” and kissed Dean’s brow.

“I know, I know.  Point is, we know what to do.  And,” he walked a pair of fingers along the naked surface of Cas’ stomach and chest, “We know that we’re fan-fuckin’-tastic at patchin' things up afterwards.  Maybe we can fake-fight, just for the reward at the end, huh?”

There was a snorted chuckle, when Cas thoughtfully added, “We’ll have to get creative with our fake fights.  Make them as outlandish as possible; so they don't push any _real_ buttons.  Especially since _some of us_ are quite combative by nature.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Dean groused and tucked himself in closer.  “Let’s get to bed.  Damn, you wore me out!  And we gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“Dean, I have a serious question…”  The uncertainty made both of them nervous.  
  
After what they’d been through, there wasn’t anything Dean wasn’t up for.  He felt pretty damn untouchable, after today.

“What’s up?  You know you can tell me anything,” he urged, stealing another kiss, fueled by pure love and support.

Cas chewed his lip before asking, “Do you…think we could carpool to work?”

Dean blinked dumbly.  “That’s your question?”

“Yes,” the word was defensive as he went on to say, “I wasn’t sure if it would…give us away or not.”

“We’re _literally_ neighbors.  Ones with the same, exact teaching job at the same location.  Who work identical friggin hours.  It’d be weird if we _didn’t_ carpool!”  Dean began laughing and admitted, “I guess I never thought of it.”

“Well, then it’s settled.”  Cas was trying to conceal the huff from his voice.  “Tomorrow, we’ll go to work together.  So long as you aren’t late again—as you were today.  Is that a frequent happening?”

“No!”  Wow, it looked like Cas was back to his normal, confident and cheeky-self.  “I just…had a rough night.  Thinking and worrying, you know?  Tonight, we’re golden, I’ve got you right where I want you, and...last night, I didn't,” he announced close to Cas’ ear and then gently sucked on his earlobe.  “It’ll make for a much, much better morning.”

“Mm, I agree.  This is _quite_ ideal…”  The sound of Cas contentedly humming, it was damn adorable.

But they needed sleep, Cas was right—Dean couldn’t be late for work two days in a row.  It was a bad habit to get into, before the classrooms were even filled.  Normally, Dean was early, that morning had been a fluke because Cas had turned his life upside down.    
  
Thank God, Dean had his boyfriend as an alarm clock tomorrow, rather than a big, giant, sinking-feeling and an empty bed.

Yep, love was great, and Cas was even better…

“I’ll see you in the morning, Dean.  Thank you for humoring me, and I love you.”

Absolute _best_ words to hear before bed—ever.

“Love you, Cas, humoring you just comes with the territory.”  Dean knew Cas could feel his smirk up against his chest, both because of the snicker and the light swat to the ass.    
  
Oh, Dean was tempted to push some boundaries, except something else stopped him that wasn’t a reprimand.  No, Dean very suddenly paused, full of awe, when he realized something startling—

Summer was over.  Dean was back to being his responsible, teaching, shaping-the-youth of tomorrow, self.  But…you know what?

He’d _actually_ found something so special from the summer—Dean had taken hold of something indescribably important—and that 'something special' had flawlessly transitioned into his ‘Real Life’ life.  Wow.

Dean had broken yet another rule for Cas.  His ‘What Happens Over Summer Break, Stays Over Summer Break’ slogan was shattered and he’d brought his boyfriend with him.    
  
His boyfriend: who knew both versions of Dean, or would be getting well-acquainted with his other side soon.  Dean wondered if Cas knew how truly unique, extraordinary and loved he was?

Eventually, Dean would find the words to tell Cas himself.  Until then, he’d do everything in his power to show him _—_ where words may fail, _showing_ was something he was quite good at.

Speaking of show, something that was driving Dean downright batty with expectation?

Cas.  Interacting with children.  

_Ho-ly shit_.  If there was ever something to look forward to, it was his sometimes Android-like, genius boyfriend ready to bow down to their level and teach them.  Dean had heard the words come from Cas’ mouth, that he’s apparently worked with first graders alone for half a decade already?!  
  
God, next Monday couldn’t get here soon enough!  Dean fell asleep with a smile on his face, over the moon thinking about what this school year would hold for the pair of them.  Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for SPN Fluff Bingo  
> Square Filled: Free Space | Angst with a Happy Ending
> 
> _**UP NEXT**_  
>  School's in session!  
> Who can sell more at the bake sale?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School’s in session! While Charlie, Anna, Dean and Cas are the team of educators teaching the first grade classes, their individual focuses are very...different.
> 
> Charlie—now aware of Dean’s new boyfriend—is getting her own (not-so-sneaky) intel on him. Dean’s motives are similar, dying to see what Cas is like with the kids. Cas, himself, is exasperated by both of them.
> 
> But _Anna_ pulls a power play—
> 
> Without the group coming to a consensus about their annual fundraiser, she chooses for the team: a bake sale.
> 
> Dean, although aghast at first, gets a fire lit under his ass when he hears news that the winner gets to pick the field trip. Then everyone’s the enemy. Even Cas. 
> 
> Dean will win this shit...or die trying!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAWD, so many thanks to my darling [Fishie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish/works) for flyyyin' through this beta read! I love her.  
> Me: Damn, I've got a lot of work to do on the next part of Open Doors  
> Fish: Want me to look at it?  
> Me: ...Seriously? While you're already editing my insanely long Sabriel BB?  
> Fish: Yep, throw it in the folder!
> 
> Next day delivery <3 <3 <3 You guys have got THIS babe to thank for the turnaround on this chapter! Yay!!

The rest of the week’s preparation had gone as expected as they geared up for the student’s arrival.  Charlie, the fucking glitter fairy, had visited all their rooms with a burst of pixie dust, leaving a trail of shiny, rainbow madness in her wake.

Speaking of Charlie, filling her in on all things ‘gossip’ had gone…as expected.    
  
She gasped in the right places and awed ‘No!  You didn’t’s!’ with the perfect amount of shock value.  And…yeah.  Maybe Dean needed to talk to someone he and Cas' ups and downs.  It really changed his mindset, not having to hold everything in, being able to spill his guts to his best friend.  

These weren’t things that he could _exactly_ gab about with Sam.  No, not in a million years.  Charlie and Dean’s connection was instant—yet their ride-or-die friendship was time-honed and perfected and meant the world to Dean.

It made him feel…lighter.    
  
Now that Charlie had all the juicy gossip...she also- _kinda_ transformed into a stalker: nearing the level Dean had been at when he first met Cas.  
  
Dean would laugh as he watched her, Charlie perched outside Cas’ classroom, peering in to see if she could get her own dirt.  All she received were dirt _y_ looks.

Naturally, Dean and Charlie as a team were damn good teachers, friends and an attractive pair in general.    
  
...But they weren’t exactly ninjas.  Like…at all.  
  
And Cas...well.  He had his annoying bogus sixth sense.

Which led to Cas grousing about Charlie's hovering, and verbally attempted to sugarcoat it as her being overprotective of Dean—but Dean knew it grated on his nerves.  Especially since he said Charlie constantly popping up (continuously and seemingly at random) interrupted his work.  Still, Cas was damn excellent about slapping on a happy face and, well, _tolerating_ her when they’d all grab lunch together.  
  
The four of them in their teaching squad were going to get cozy, Cas knew it logically and refused to be the one who stirred the pot.  Since Dean and Cas had worked through their own problems, and Charlie was the chillest person ever—Dean was quite optimistic about their team these days.  About how they were gonna kick ass.

It was Sunday night, now.  They’d all grown closer over the course of the week, and tomorrow they’d get to meet their little rug-rats!

Dean could barely sleep.  He was fighting not to toss and turn with excitement, but Cas called him out all the same.

“Are you usually like this before the first day?”  There was fondness in his tone, his voice hushed from where his chin was hooked from behind against Dean’s shoulder.  “You’re probably worse than the children.”

“Is that what you call ‘em?”  Dean lowered his voice to mimic Cas, “Children.  It’s time to visit the wilderness, aka, the playground, out yonder.  Please, do not take safety measures lightly, use both hands when commandeering the set of swings, use due diligence—”

“Dean.  You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

“You’re a…fool,” he grumbled back, but there was a wide grin on his face.  “Sorry.  Sure, I have a blast over the summer, but I miss teaching, dude.  I _love_ my job.  I look forward to it.  I’m good at keeping myself entertained for all’a June and July, but by the time August comes around…”

Dean turned to face Cas and shot him a lewd smile.  “Let’s just say…you were an _amazing_ distraction.  So I didn’t get antsy this year, like I usually do.  Currently, I’m antsy as hell, I think the entire month’s ants decided to hit me at once.  ...That made no sense, there are no ants—!”

“Meaning even I can’t distract you?”  There was a lilt in his voice—just to make him dangerous—along with a raised eyebrow.  That told Dean Cas had taken his words as a challenge.

And, shit, Dean had to take it back, renege, before his boyfriend kept him up all night long.  Because there was a very, very real possibility that Cas _would_.  This wasn’t good, but then parts of Dean thought it wasn't _bad_ at the same time, shit—

Dean was horrible at these kinds of internal debates, when different parts of your body were arguing with you!  
  
“No, no, no, no, I didn’t mean to sound like a lunatic.”  Finally, Dean made the choice, he backpedaled, while kissing the mischief off Cas’ face and said plainly, “You’d do an excellent job.  I know you.  I guess when I really think about it…it’s a giddy feeling.  I don’t want to lose it.  When you lose it?  You shouldn’t be teaching anymore.”

Cas appeared thoughtful and hummed his agreement, “You’re absolutely correct.  The moment you lack an affinity for a job like this, or even think of it as a _job_ , you’re no longer cut out to be an educator.”

“Yeah…”  Dean could feel himself getting lost, watching Cas.

At first, he was a bit curious about the discovery.  Dean hadn’t pictured the man he’d fallen in love with teaching elementary.  That’s part of the reason he’d been blindsided at the grand reveal.  However, like Charlie, Dean found himself taking little peeks into the open classroom when his boyfriend wasn’t looking.

He could see the care Cas took putting his space together.  The soft smile on his face as he went about drawing up lessons.  God, Dean couldn’t wait to watch the live interactions, it would be priceless.    
  
To be honest?  That may or may not have attributed to his restlessness, wanting tomorrow—along with everything it brought—to be here.

“Dean?”  Cas appeared wary, and it worried Dean what the hell kinda look was slapped on his face, his expression had to read something weird...

Probably zoning out and glowing like an idiot.

“Sorry, sorry.  Just, uh, thinking.  We should get some sleep, since we don’t know which of us is taking off early.  Since we’ve gotta drive separate.  Get there at separate _times_ ,” he emphasized—since that was the conclusion they drew together.  If only for the very first day.  “Keepin’ our private lives private, and all.”

Sure, they’d spoke about carpooling, they had done so in the week leading up to the student's arrival, and they would eventually get to it.  
  
However, they also figured with all the parents dropping the kids off at different times, it would be best to form their _own_ identities right off the bat.  If they drove in different cars, the image that lasted in a parents mind would be one of independence.  

They wouldn’t automatically link Cas and Dean together, because if they arrived in one car—not knowing they were neighbors (it wasn't like they could drive carrying a sign), it would cause it fuss.  Gossip flew through the school, and neither wanted it to affect their teaching, because it shouldn’t.  
  
Until they established Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were two completely unrelated first grade teachers, they’d need to keep up this charade.   Later down the line, when they actually did drive in together, little Marco or Jenny would’ve heard from one of the teachers that they were neighbors.  Problem solved.  No speculation.  
  
Because until then—there was always, _always_ speculation.  
  
God, this whole secrecy thing was a pain in the ass when it had to do with minor things like this.  Some of the sneaking around though…Dean could already think of some _enjoyable_ ways to handle that…

“It’s for the best, and will only last for a little while,” Cas reminded and pulled them together, coaxing Dean into relaxing with his mouth.

It was _quite_  effective.

Dean was soothed and languid in no time, sighing happily and collapsing against Cas.  Dean squeezed his boyfriend tight and received a kiss to the forehead.

“Get ready for your big debut, Cas,” he mumbled, eyes heavy and already nodding off.  “Love you.”

“I love you.  See you in the morning.”

\-------------------

It was a fast-paced rush the moment the alarm when off.  While coffee brewed, the men shared their first shower for the sole reason of _efficiency_.  Cas promptly gave Dean a to-go cup and all but shoved him out the door.  While Dean changed inside his own house, he saw Cas’ car pull out of the driveway and cursed under his breath.

_Dean_ was supposed to be the first one to the school, dammit!

The sneaky little shit had used spending the night at his place to his advantage!

Although, Dean couldn’t really fault him—if he was ready to head out, why would he wait?  There was the fact that Cas had more on his plate: it was his first year teaching at a brand new school.  Even though Dean appeared to be the more anxious one, Cas had probably been playing it cool the night before.  
  
He _had_ to have the new-job-jitters.  Everyone on the planet got ‘em, and Cas wasn’t as invincible as he played on TV.  Right?  Dean only wished last night, now that he was thinking about it, he could’ve been there for Cas, like his boyfriend was always, constantly there for him—no matter what.

Dean had to rolled his eyes at their ploy (annoyed that being gay was even still an awkward subject for some parents), he put on his jacket and waited fifteen minutes.  When he deemed it safe, when Cas had enough of a head start, he hopped in his Baby and drove to the school.

There was a massive banner hanging over the entrance, reading ’Welcome Back Students!’ in colorful letters, and the parking lot was still empty.

As much as Dean’s gut wanted to see how his boyfriend was doing, he knew he should hold off until lunch at least.  So he veered down the left wing of the hall and checked on Charlie.

Naturally, she was in high spirits, and flashed a paper at him before he could even say hi.

“Did you see this?!”

“Uh.  See what?” he asked hesitantly, since she was flapping the page so quickly, he couldn’t even catch the massive, _Comic Sans_ header.  Ah—the font of youth.

“Remember when we were brainstorming on a fundraiser for our first field trip?”  Charlie sauntered over and slapped it on his chest in a huff.  “Looks like _Anna_ came up with a solution!”

Dean frowned and picked the corner of the fluorescent green sheet.  “She decided _for us_?  Yeah, well….guess that sounds like typical Anna.”

“It’s not like we came to a consensus, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt this time.   _And_ we were supposed to send home information with the kiddos today for the parents to prepare!”  Charlie crossed her arms and sighed, “We should probably work on our team building skills for the future.  Anna can’t pick everything and—”

“A _bake sale_?!”  Dean recoiled as he read the header and almost wadded up the paper on instinct.  “What the hell?   _Why_ _—_?”

“Hey, don’t knock it.  Think of all the soccer moms who will eat this up!  Like, literally.”  She wore her impish grin with oozing confidence and prodded Dean with her finger.

He wasn’t giving up, not by a long shot.  Dean continued his protest, “Char!  We’re _still_ in the demographic of mom’s trying to get their pre-baby bodies back!  They haven’t given up on life, and—”

“Pinterest?  Dying to prove they’re not another useless millennial and showing they can follow directions to make something pretty?  _Hello_?”  With a snort, Charlie waved it off, “We’re golden!  This will be fun, plus, I know _you_ can cook!   And work some magic with those mamas and papas!”

Dean poked her back and glared.  “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just shimmy at me.  Fuck, yeah.  You’re right, I guess.  Rah, rah, bake sale!”

“And there’s extra incentive.  Class that sells the most?  Gets dibs on where our field trip is!” Charlie used a sing-song voice.

For as casually as she tossed out _that_ tidbit of information, the very detail lit a fire under Dean’s ass.

His eyes narrowed in fierce determination and announced, “My class is gonna tear you down.  You, Anna, hell—even Cas!  Prepare to get friggin _murdered_!”

Charlie was only surprised for half a second, before she met his fire with ice, coolly biting, “We’re gonna demolish you, Winchester.”

“Oh, you better bring it.”

\---------------------------

Dean was beaming from the moment his first student walked in alongside their mom, followed by the next, and the levee broke when the buses arrived.  He showed them (one by one) to the row of lockers against the back wall of the room where he’d assigned each with their name.  The kids would find theirs (some still needed their adult’s help), put their belongings inside, and then Dean told them to go ahead and take a seat when they were unloaded or their parent or guardian was ready to hit the road.

From experience, Dean knew that first days could be a little rough.  The Elementary building was new, especially for this group's commuters, and the drive to turn left was easy to miss from the main road.  Which was why he waited an additional fifteen minutes for any stragglers (three were missing from his class list) and by waiting for the trio instead of launching forward, no one missed anything.

He could feel the vibrancy bouncing off the kids, and he knew it was time to dive in.

“Welcome, you old ladies and old men!  You’ve made it past preschool and kindergarten!  You’re _officially_ in elementary school.”  His voice easily rose above all the chatter and caught their attention.  

As Dean sat down on the carpet (a space he’d deliberately cleared out for introductions last Friday) one little girl gasped and dramatically put her hands on her hips, “Jus’ because we’re not babies anymore, doesn’t mean we’re old!”

Dean laughed and patted the ground next to him.  “Are you sure?  ‘Cause I’m a geezer, and I should know, you're starting to look like me!  C’mon y’all, come sit.  Make a big circle where I am!  Make sure everyone can find a place, okay?”

Some of the kids dove for a spot, rolled, somersaulting on the carpet, while others timidly stepped in before plopping down to the ground.  There was one boy who looked left, and then right, but the circle had already closed up around him.

Instantly, Dean scooted over and waved towards him.  He addressed both the young boy and the rest of the group, his voice welcoming and booming, “I’m Mr. Winchester.  What’s your name, kiddo?”

He was nervous, much smaller than the other already-miniature little humans, and Dean wondered if he was in the right place.  Well, he _had_ to be, because the kindergartens and preschools weren’t on this campus.  They were in a completely different building on the other side of the city.

Slowly, the boy knelt and folded his hands on his lap, his eyes shifting from side to side.

“I’m…Kevin.”  It was barely above a whisper.

Dean matched him, quieting his tone into something calmer and less boisterous.  “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”

He turned out towards the circle, all the different students either happily swaying, bouncing with wide smiles, or drumming their fingers in excitement.  No one was rushing, shouting, rolling around in dramatics.  God, Dean loved the energy, and already _knew_ this was going to be a great group.  They were responsive and attentive, despite any first-day-stress.

“We’re going to go around the circle, one at a time.  When it’s your turn, you’re going to tell us all your name.  Then, we’ll all say together ‘Nice to meet you,’ and repeat their name.  Want to try it with Kevin?” Dean scoped the circle out, a good chunk of the kids nodded supportively, or made sounds of affirmation.  
  
Hopefully this showed Kevin that his jitters would wash right away, Dean waited for him patiently, and finally, the kid picked up on his lead.

This time, he was more confident—just as Dean hoped.  He even raised his head up tall and glanced at a select few of his classmates, saying, “M-my name is Kevin Tran.”

Everyone, very loudly and with a melodic quality chanted together, “Nice to meet you, Keeeevin!” and Dean applauded.

“That was perfect!  Did you guys practice this over the summer just for me?” he teased them, eliciting a few small giggles.  “Also, don‘t worry, if you can't remember everyone’s name.  There’s a bunch of you and that’s a big job!  When meeting someone new or talking to someone whose name you may not remember, always ask.  Every time.  You’ll learn it soon.  Now, let’s go right around the circle and see how many you can store in your brain right now!”

Dean leaned over and looked at the petite girl next to Kevin and swooped a dramatic arm.  “It’s your turn, milady.”

She was all clapping hands as she rolled on the floor, “Yay!”

\---------------------------

Once recess hit, all of the team's kids mingled together, sought out and found friends they’d met in kindergarten out on the playground.  The teachers wanted to socialize the children as much as possible, so having all the classes meet during recess (even though it was a lot of children in one place at one time) was a part of the program.

Normally, first grade was where the students earned their independence, and they gained some right away in the form of a massive outdoor space to move through.  When the teacher’s got a feeling for their personalities, they wouldn’t hover as much, but watching through play and socializing—it was one of the best ways to figure out what the year had in store.  
  
Spotting who were the natural leaders, the followers, the caretakers, the potential troublemakers.  This was better than setting up a damn interview.  
  
Charlie, Anna, Dean and Cas spread out and manned certain stations so they had a full view of everything that was happening over the grounds.  The fact that they had to stick to their locations was quite literally the perfect opportunity for Dean to see his boyfriend in action.

It wasn’t like any of them were security guards, and they didn’t want to make the kiddos feel like they were an intimidating authority either.  That was the last thing Dean wanted to be perceived as.  
  
While they metaphorically kept one eye open, they were also engaged with the kids.  Anna was pushing a few on the swing-set.  Charlie was lounging on a grass hill, plucking dandelions with a large group of girls and boys from different classes, and weaving them into crowns.

Dean was tossing a ball around with another group, trying to multi-task and spy on Cas.

Cas, who was spotting some of the clumsy ones on the jungle gym.

He had to have super-human, or super-Cas senses, because even while he tossed the bouncy-kickball-like ball around, he could hear his boyfriend’s crooning words and it melted him into a pile of goo.

Cas’ arms were extended, carefully watching a little girl swinging wrung by wrung, fighting to make it to the other side.  He was encouraging and supporting her, his deep tone softened, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall—but I won’t need to.  You can make it all by yourself.  Look, you’re _over_ halfway there!”

When she tumbled, Cas easily scooped her up and reassured her, “That was amazing, Kaia!  Did you know most of the big kids can’t even do that?  You’ll get there very soon.  And I’ll be here to help you.”

That was when, in all Dean’s gawking, he was caught with his (metaphoric, duh) pants down.   
  
And that stupid rubber ball _smashed_ against the side of his face—  
  
It bounced right off with all the force of a swift kick—the impact (and slapping noise) like a punch in the face—Dean was grunting, tipping over, _scrambling_ to balance himself—

_ThankJesusfuckingChrist_ he didn’t fall over!  Dean did, indeed, dance around himself, desperately fighting not to kiss the pavement, and everyone else made enough ruckus that it didn’t go unnoticed...all eyes were on him.

“Motherf-f-fudge!” Dean cursed, raising his hand to his cheek and feeling a sensitive, sunburn-like sensation.  While the skin was a bit raised and undoubtedly red, it wouldn’t bruise, he knew that, but—damn—did it wake him up!

The kids looked terrified, ghostly white with dropped jaws—that wasn’t what he wanted.    
  
Dean took full responsibility for gazing off with heart-eyes at his boyfriend, it was his mistake.  He had literally taken his head out of the game, and there were rules for a reason.    
  
Hey, look, here was a teachable moment!

Dean moved quickly to assured them, “I'm fine, don’t worry, guys!  This is a good lesson in ‘keeping your eye on the ball!’  No one, uh, make the mistake, I did!  But we were also were playing catch, not kickball, so...keep that in mind, too: no kicking,” Dean tried to smooth that part in as non-threateningly as possible.  There was abso-fucking-lutely no way a toss almost landed him on his ass, like he had.  “We’ll get to kickball.  Later.  In gym.  Deal?”  
  
There were enthusiastic nods, and, _Dear God_ , Dean felt much, much better.

“Dude!  Are you okay?!”  Charlie rushed over, her flower-crown tipping askew.  She instinctual brushed her fingers over the welt and, shit, it stung.  “ _Dang_.  Someone’s a strong little devil!  Who made that field goal?”  She looked around, until one little boy raised his hand hesitantly, and Charlie...high-fived him?!  “Nice aim!  Be a little more careful next time.”  
  
Whatever.  It was just Charlie being Charlie, at least he didn’t get his nose broken or some crap.  Blood was a bitch to wash out.  On the bright side, the kid was being honest and showed some guts—another step in the right direction.

“Tyler knows better now,” Dean promised everyone again, “Guess I lost some hand-eye coordination over summer—” he noticed only then that Cas hadn’t merely seen the ball almost take him out, Cas was muffling his laughter.  Like, forcefully covering his damn mouth as his cheeks turned pink!  “Hey!  Mr. Novak!  You got anything _positive_ to add to this conversation?!”

“Ice—” Cas finally broke, and burst out laughing, “Y-you need ice.”

“Hate to say it, but he’s right…” Charlie winced, and Dean snatched her already-rising hand up before she poked his cheek more.  “I’ll watch all your little ones and you can stop by the nurse’s?  We just wanna keep that gorgeous money-maker up to snuff!”  With a wink, she turned back to the kids, “Who wants to break into the sidewalk chalk?  I’ve got _tons_ of colors!”

A chorus of ’ _me, me, me_!’s chattered from all over the yard, and Dean (after glaring at his boyfriend who was trying to tame his giggles) marched back into the building.  He didn’t want bruising, not with the bake sale looming and meeting with all the parents.  He wasn’t going to lie, sometimes (all the time) he used his good looks to his advantage with these fundraisers.  If he couldn’t fall back on that—what the hell was he supposed to use as his nuke?

\---------------------------

It wasn’t a secret that Dean wanted to win this bake sale.

He wanted to win it with a passion, because he wanted (ahem— _needed_ ) to be the one who picked out their first—and inevitably most memorable—field trip, dammit!

Dean had rallied the troops (his ranks were moms, dads, sisters, brothers, friends and other randoms he could drag in) who were participating in the bake sale.  Dean's head was in the game, which was full-Mission Mode.    
  
The only problem laid in the classroom.  Everything was made for the mini's, Dean didn't have access to any other venue or place for the group to sit, and no one could squeeze down into the small chairs.  He figured it wouldn't break the desks for this _one_ meeting...so he encouraged those gathering to go ahead and perch up on the desks.    
  
Although some of the creaks and groans worried him as they all sat, waiting for the clock to strike 4 (after all, they were mini, too), Dean decided who cared if one broke?  This was for the good of the cause—    
  
It was time!

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Dean marched back and forth, and began speaking with wild hands gestures.  “ _This_ bake sale?  Is the _big-time_!  It’s going to fund the first lovely extravaganza we have the pleasure of taking your little tykes to!  So bake your hearts out!  Ask for donations!  This is serious business. The winner—chosen between myself and my three colleagues—gets to pick the location of that first field trip.  This _will_ be one of your child's first, biggest and _best_ memories when they look back on their education!”

Dean came to a full stop, a power-pose (he liked to think of it) and crossed his arms.  “I’d be more than happy to take your suggestions on what you want that memory to be.   _When_ we win!  No ifs.”

There was some chatter in the audience, excitement, and Dean could tell they were getting riled up.  But he needed _more_!

“This Saturday: we’ll all be setting up booths right up front at our lovely local park.  Cars _will_ see our stand and stop for us.  Walkers, joggers, those with dogs will _not_ pass us without a tasty treat—oh, and we’ve done lots of social media advertising!  Set-up is beginning with the staff at 9am, volunteers the join the crew at the park at 10am—which is when we'll need all the sweets.  Then the real party is right after!  We’ll be selling our goodies from 11am until around 5pm. That’s _two_ shifts so no one has to be on their feet all day.  That’s a lot of time—which is why I need a lot of product from you!  I‘ll need four volunteers for the booths for the am, four for the pm.  I need lots of support in other areas, and I've got those written down on the sign-up sheet.”

Dean clapped his hands together on the syllables, “Can you do it?”

“Yes—” About half the crowd assertively nodded and agreed, the other...mumbling.

Oh, that _wasn’t_ going to fly!  
  
Dean raised his volume and repeated: “Can you do it?!”

“Yes!”  This time, everyone punched the word right back, and Dean felt relief swirling through him—equal parts relief and thrill.

“Perfect!  This will be awesome!  Don't be shy, I've got the sign-up sheet right up front.  You can decide if you want to help out with selling at the actual event, or you can drop-off the goods.  Help collect donations, sponsor, whatever you'd like!  Us educators will be setting up and tearing down, doing the heavy lifting.  All you have to worry about is makin’ those scrumptious treats and slingin' 'em.  Each group, please arrive a half-hour early just so we can create a really nice spread of your baked goodies!  Also, let me know what you plan on making.”

One by one, they followed his directions, and Dean felt a pull towards sweet, sweet victory already.  Fuck yes!  
  
Dean was indulging in small talk, watching the ink fill up the page for Saturday, so much so, one Dad asked for another piece of paper.  They had all their bases covered—more than enough people signed up for sales, so not _only_ would their table be fully-manned, they could even get creative and send some people out to lure in more business.  The list of usual treats were joined by gluten-free, vegan and even some exotics Dean wasn't ashamed to admit he couldn't  pronounce.  
  
And there was pie!  
  
Dude.  They were _so_ gonna kick ass!  
  
After the meeting and reading through the collection of all the names, the numbers and the stats on the sign-up list?  Well, he was damn sure he had already set-up himself up with ridiculously high odds of winning this thing!  Hell yes!    
  
Dean lounged back, smiling at the paper, without a hint of remorse for—you know—when he buried his co-workers alive.

\---------------------------

The scene at school with the parents, aunts, uncles, friends of the family, everyone on his team—it was on loop, playing through his head.  He'd had a captive audience who was just as enthralled as he, and the expressions on their face while motivated played off of Dean's obsession _to_ motivate.  And then win.    
  
Except, it _was_  an obsession.  His was enamored with any new concept.  Of what he could keep doing, what he could do better, what the next play he handed down to the group would be—    
  
Dean’s mind was focused on strategy.  He had tunnel vision, mentally drafting up on the newest message in the secret email blast (to all those signed up) about their plan.  For as opposed as he'd initially been, that wasn't the case (currently debating the merits of doubling their variety...hell, if it meant buying straight from _grocery stores_ , so be it) this bake sale was consuming him…even when he was at home.  
  
_Well…_  
  
More specifically, right as Cas’ hand was down his pants.  
  
Which was really, really unfortunate.    
  
Shit!  He was so competitive, it was straight-up disrupting his sex life!

And Cas...wasn’t in a much better space.

“Dean,” he growled—  
  
—It _wasn’t_ a sexy growl, and it made Dean gulp.

“Y-yes?”

Instead of continuing the current foreplay, Cas dodged his pathetic attempt at reaching out, grabbed Dean by his shoulders and shoved him down onto the bed.  He began ripping away Dean’s clothes like a wild fucking animal until he was buck-ass naked, snarling out, “You’re impossible!”

“No!  I’m not!  I’m…cold,” he offered lamely, but looking down the glare of a very pissed off Cas?  That was real.  Extremely real.  “I’m sorry!” Dean blurted, then yelped as Cas sunk his teeth remorselessly into the meat of his shoulder and—okay, even if it hurt, that was sexy as hell…

“We leave our private lives at home, we should _also_ leave our professional lives at the damn school.”

Nope.  Cas was not happy.  But the rough touch, the aggressive, dominate manhandling…it had Dean achingly hard where he'd previously been half-erect.  And, _fucking a_ , he was kind of in love with this side of Cas.  Who was Dean kidding, not 'kind of,' he _always_ had been drawn to this streak in his boyfriend.  Even though he’d never really witnessed it at this high a level before—

Half of Dean wanted to give in to him, to submit, but half of him…dared to rile Cas up more.  Especially because it was dangerous.

“I’m sorry!” Dean gasped once more as his boyfriend raked his nails down his flank before digging his hands into Dean’s hip deep enough for grip, to spin him around.

“Are you?” Cas prompted him, grabbing handfuls of his ass cheeks, waiting.

Dean peered over his shoulder, flushed and panting.  He swallowed and nodded.  “Only because I’m gonna embarrass the hell out of you tomorrow— _fuck_!”

A loud slap cracked through the room as Cas spanked him.

“If you bring that up one more time, Winchester…”

“W-what are you gonna do?”  Oh, no…Dean didn’t know _why_ he said that, he really, really shouldn’t have, _he knew it_ —

His rear pulsed its own heartbeat as Cas landed another full-handed smack, and another, and Dean fought like hell to catch his breath.  Before he could apologize, this time for real, Cas gave him one more swat for good measure before the lube was in his hand.  Holy hell, Dean was dizzy…like, awesomely dizzy…toppling-into-a-face-of-pillow dizzy, and Cas was hauling him back up to his forearms.

“One last time, Dean—” Cas warned, the slippery head of his cock sliding between his sore cheeks, now teasing around his hole.  “Are we leaving work at work?”

“Y-yeah…I c-can do that…”  It was garbled, but Dean was pretty sure he formed the words (the correct ones) past his bumbling tongue.

“Good.”

That was the only warning he got before Cas was plunging inside him.

When their bodies met, when they clashed together, Dean could actually feel the sensitive sting of Cas’ hand, it lingered and flared up from the pressure of his damn skin!  Couple it with the sensation of being stretched on Cas’ cock, saying that Dean was overwhelmed was putting it lightly.  He tossed his head back with a shout and twisted helplessly, knowing he didn’t have a damn ounce of control.

Hell, had he ever had it in the first place?

As Cas began to rock, Dean counted down around ten second (max) to catch his breath before his boyfriend inevitably sped up.  He knew Cas’ patterns, he knew that when he was in a mood like this—he had problems holding back.  And Dean friggin loved when he gave in to the animal.

He yipped an embarrassing noise when Cas’ hand abruptly dug into the raised patch on his rear, and Dean demanded, “Is this fun for you?!”

“Very…I wish you could see.  It’s just as good as any mark that I’ve left with my mouth,” he chuckled and, like clockwork, began to plunge in and out of Dean faster.

“D-don’t get used to it,” he was fighting for air, but fighting just as hard to snip back at Cas.

He rearranged his grip, using Dean’s shoulder and his hip for leverage and launched his goddamn brutal assault.  “We’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson.”

Dean couldn’t help it, he couldn’t physically stop himself from the snide, “Now who’s bringing work home with them?” because it was begging to be said—

“Oh?”  That was pure, piqued interest wrapped in arousal.  “The way you’re pleading for my cock tells me that you might like that.  Do you, Mr. Winchester?”

“Fuck, Cas!”  Dean was flushed red—thank Jesus his boyfriend couldn’t see his damn face, because that scarlet was extending to his neck and his chest.  As Cas’ hips pumped deeper, and Dean’s mind ran rampant with thought, the only thing he could manage was, “Fuck, fuck, _fuckfuckfuck_ —”

Cas pitched forward and grazed his teeth so hard, so damn deep against his back they could’ve broken skin.  With complete glee, he wondered, “Have I caused you to short-circuit?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you—”  It was barely audible, mostly grunted, but in Cas’ eyes—a sign that Dean was still coherent.

_Too_ coherent.

This mood he was in…no, hell no, it wasn’t fair...

Cas exchanged a thrust for one more swat to Dean’s brilliant red, throbbing ass cheek, making him shrink away.  Even though the tingles, the pins and needles left this sensation of life, Dean wasn’t sure if he could handle anymore.  Cas should know, the punched-out squeal was more than enough to tell him, but that squeal—

Was followed by an even louder choked cry, as Dean had not expected Cas’ hand to wrap around his cock.

“Goddamn, Cas—” he mewled and rolled his back, because the tight, closed tunnel was still wet from the lube Cas had used to slick his own cock up.

All these sensations—Dean was spiraling way, _way_ too fast.  
  
Especially considering that he was practically limp-dicked in La La Land at the beginning.  And _now_  he was about to cum like this was the first time he was getting a freaking handjob!  God...this was all his fault...Dean had no one else to blame but himself.  He didn’t even know whether to congratulate himself or offer condolences, he was teetering!

On any day, Dean would end up blissed-out from an orgasm on Cas’ cock in his ass.  His boyfriend knew exactly how to get him off, make love to him, how to make him feel amazing—but this…

This was a hot sting when their bodies collided, while Cas attacked his prostate with a vengeance at the same time he was fisting Dean’s cock.  It was fast, furious and oh-so-savage.  Like, Cas had taken sex and turned it into an extreme sport.

One that Dean still didn’t know if he was winning or losing—but he was blowing his load over the dirty shirt they’d set out, all the same.

Dean, in the end, found himself cursing Cas out as he came, thrashing in his boyfriend‘s arms.  That made Cas hum in triumph, very, very pleased with his work. It was only a handful of moments later before the hips slamming into Dean’s rear changed into jerkier movements—into deeper plunges, and he knew that Cas was actually spilling _inside_ him.

Dammit, they had these pieces of clothes laid out for a reason!  For easy clean up, for pulling out.  But Cas just _had to go and—_

The laughter ringing in Dean’s ear as his boyfriend tackled him down _onto_ the soiled shirt and went even further to smear the release all over Dean’s stomach made the fight drain from him.  Cas was still buried inside him, unwilling to pull out just yet. And maybe…Dean was smiling, too.

“You’re a jerk…”  He had to clear his throat, his voice was all effed up.  “Now I’ve gotta get up double-early for a real scrub down.”

Cas offered a sincere, “Then let me join you.”

“You…” Dean rolled over, wincing as his butt grazed the knitted edges of the comforter, “just want to get a nice, long look at your handiwork.  I know you.”

“You know me best,” he agreed with a bold smile.  “And you should then know that I don’t take to being ignored either.  Or go down without a fight.”

With the barest head butt and a sweet brush of their noses, Dean said, “Yeah.  Maybe I deserved it.  You sure took some liberties there, buddy.”

“You would’ve done more to stop me if you truly had a problem.”  Cas pulled him into a kiss, and Dean preened.

This was the only thing that he’d missed during that sexy tussle, Cas’ lips.  He’d gotten everything else, hell, he’d _exceeded_ his quota on everything else.  Besides the hunger and delight that was within Cas’ kiss.  Dean could stay here for years and years, lose himself.  His boyfriend even let him for a while.

“Would you like me to grab an ice pack for you?”

Yes, _that_ was what Cas broke their kiss to say.  It was effective.  Dammit, what was with him and his constant need for ice?!  If it wasn’t his face, it was his ass!

Dean’s brow furrowed into a glare, because he had no way to tell if Cas was being a jackass, or if he was being sincere.  Cas was being a tricky sonuvabitch, using one of those matter-of-fact tones that you had to decide for yourself what was the best bet…

Instead, Dean quipped, “How about _you_ go soak in one’a those ice baths for an hour.  Then, come back to me, and I’ll let you feel me up.  Sure you’ll be cold enough by then.”

“I’ll be hypothermic.”  It was dry, but Dean could see it—the twitching of a grin in the corners of his mouth.  It was aching to quirk.

“That’s the price you pay, trying to break your boyfriend.”  It was a game of will, Dean trying to maintain an even tone as much as Cas was, and he was so close to winning.  
  
Something.  Maybe he would win _something_.  
  
“Getting hypothermia?  Now, I know there are easier ways to get in your pants than that.”  He raised an eyebrow, their eyes locked in a matched heat.  
  
Dean inched forward, and they were already so close, he almost went cross-eyed.  “Now yer just calling me easy.  You think I’m easy, Cas?”  
  
He paused to think about the question, as well as the answer.  As he did so, his arms snaked around Dean’s waist, and just when he thought that Cas was going to hold him, Dean found himself dead wrong—  
  
“Motherfucker!” Dean shouted out, even the lightest of butt-grabs making him concede defeat and frown, “Fine.  Fine!  Just go get me that fucking ice!”

\----------------------------

The Bake Sale.  
  
It felt like High Noon in a Western Flick.  Except, instead of a revolver and the clock tower signaling a shoot-out, Dean was armed with an alarm on his phone and...baked shit.  
  
Not shit, obviously, they had the best sh— _goods_ anyone could want!  He knew that!  Hell, he’d take everything they didn’t sell home, he was already drooling, looking at the variety.  Maybe the whole thing wasn’t a bad idea, maybe he should thank Anna in the end...  
  
Dean was so focused on his own all-stars, he hadn’t even thought to scope out the other team’s dynamics until it was too late.  
  
The four of them had gotten the set-up ready together, but once their volunteers arrived, that was old news.  They may have been a team at the beginning, but things changed.

Early that morning, transport to set-up the shindig had been utilizing the school’s vans.  Cas and Dean did the physical labor, packing one tightly with fold-out tables, that Anna drove over, then a second vehicle was armed with fold-out chairs, that they hopped in and all unloaded together.  Charlie had come bearing table clothes and banners in the schools colors that everyone would be using universally, so playing field was even.  
  
...That’s where the ‘even playing field’ business ended.

Charlie (as Dean should have anticipated) was all pizzazz—she had bright, shiny and fancy ornamentation that drew the naked eye towards her stand.  Although, that draw would only last for so long—Dean realized with a grin—because she had _extremely_ limited baked goods.  And only two volunteers with her.  
  
Rookie move.

Unless she was selling something wildly gourmet for an equally wild price, she’d tap out by one o’clock, and be done.  She and her distractions would have to pack up and go home.

Anna was traditional, and Dean expected nothing less.  Like any other bake sale, everything was spread out by flavor and style.  
  
Plus, the little cheat even had some Girl Scout Cookies she was re-selling!  God knows _those_ were like crack to the public.  Especially out of season, so Anna could totally jack up the price!  Dean would’ve called foul, but he didn’t want to be investigated if something went south at his own station…

Which brought Dean to his boyfriend, who he was totally side-eyeing.  Because— _excuse me_ —who was this woman he was getting so buddy-buddy with?  

From the second they got here, it was like they were attached at the hip!    
  
What was worse, was that Dean didn’t see any other people show up for Cas’ team.  It wasn't just un-strategic, it was fishy.  Plus, did this mean the mystery woman would be here the entire goddamn day—?

“Dean, this is Kelly Kline.”  Fine, Cas ruined the mystery, by ways of a polite introduction, as he leaned over the table.  Meaning Dean couldn’t hate on her from afar, like he’d been planning on.  Yep, they were side-by-side, Cas and Dean's stands were unfortunately touching.  “She’s the mother of one of my students.  As well as my secret weapon.”

Oh, that tone…Dean did _not_ like that…if Cas was cocky there was most definitely a reason.  Dean was primed and ready to bicker, but...he had to be an adult.  At this function, there were eyes on him.  He wasn't allowed to taunt his boyfriend.  Plus, who knew?  Dean may end up working with this Kline kid in the future, he _had_ to play it cool…

“Nice to meet you, Kelly.  I’m Dean Winchester.  Although, having the segue of being a secret weapon?”  He feigned a wince, “That’s loaded.”  
  
Kelly had those kind eyes and nodded her head, with that sweet voice, saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.  I’ve heard a lot about you.  And I admit, it is loaded.  Hopefully, advantageously.”  She glanced over to his boyfriend with a look Dean _wasn’t_ digging.  
  
Nope.  Not at all.

Gesturing to the somewhat half-assed display (now that Dean was examining it), Cas said, “We don’t wish for the baked goods to be sitting out all day.  Taking into account the sun and the humidity that’s in the forecast.  So when we’re low, Kelly can make a run and replenish our needs.”  With a shit-eating grin, Cas reported, “Oh—did I not mention she owns a bakery?”

“Yep, I’m ready when Castiel gives the okay,” Kelly chimed in with a smile and took a step in towards Cas, letting her arm set on his back and…linger.  Oh, _hell_ no.

“Somehow, I feel like that’s cheating…” Dean commented with a laugh to keep things lighthearted.  “Plus, all our product is sealed and dry goods, it’s not like it’s milk.  Just chillin’, out in the heat, curdling as we go.  The worst that could happen is maybe a chocolate chip a cookie’s softer.  Melts in your mouth, makes it even _more_ tasty.”

Kelly sighed, “I wish it were that easy, but the truth is—”

“No!  No, I will _not_ allow you to sabotage the rest of the teachers!  We’re all allowed to fight to do our best, not tear each other down.”  Dean stared at Cas, trying his best not to be rude, “You know this, right?  We’re raising all the money we can:  _for_ the kids!”

“You’re absolutely correct, Dean,” he nodded decisively, “Miss Kline, let’s only speak about positive things, and not be the aggressors?”  
  
Yeah, okay, _sabotage_ was the word that Dean used—but okay, _Miss Kline_.

Dean had already turned back to his massive spread (he’d won as far as product, variety, and amount, fuck yeah) except, he heard the faintest, “Oh, I apologize.  I’ll do anything you’d like of me, Castiel.  Truly anything,” and it was pitched low so no one could hear it.

However, Dean could.  It made his blood boil because—seriously?  That was a come-on!  
  
Dammit, there wasn’t anything he could do about it either!  He’d all but waved his right, forfeited, when he and Cas decided to keep their relationship a secret.  Of course, things like this would happen. People had eyes—Cas was friggin gorgeous!

He was also unapologetically gay, so Cas didn’t bother correcting the flirting, the little (obvious) crush, anything.    
  
Instead, Cas decided to roll with it, and give her the order: “Since you asked, it would be nice if you could write up a few small signs for us to put out.  Since we have the goods set up, maybe four cupcakes for the price of three?  Buy a dozen cookies, get a free brownie?  You have much better handwriting than I.”

Dean leaned over and said, “Maybe buy two pies, get the third half off?  Oh—wait.  You don’t have pies!  What about banana bread?  Six kinds of muffins?  Bunch of no-bakes?  And my personal favorite!”  He pulled out an insulated tub from their cooler, “Straight-up mini-chocolate chip cookie dough!  Add little balls to your ice cream, your shakes, bake ‘em up exact how you want them, _or_ just snack.”

“And hope you don’t get salmonella,” Cas returned blandly.  “You’re correct.  You have…an abundance.  We should ready our sample platters, at this juncture it’s quality over quantity.”

“Oh, it’s _on_!” Dean growled, then turned to his many, many volunteers (not just Kelly fuckin’ Kline).  “Let’s get rollin', guys and gals!”

\----------------------

As the day wore on, there wasn’t a moment of downtime, the masses were constantly funneling towards their stand, grazing, purchasing and, in turn, telling their friends.  Word of mouth was an excellent tool because they were out for an extended amount of time today.  They had enough hours to wait on those texts, for the referrals to come strolling on in.  For the shares to go live on Facebook.  
  
The longer the day went on, the harder it got, and if anyone was feeling it…it was Dean.

Dammit, he could _see_ Cas’ grin, too!  The dick!

Dean tried to sit a few times, only to wiggle, realize it was futile, and stand back up.  
  
His ass hurt so much!    
  
His stupid fucking boyfriend wasn’t showing any sympathy—he was thriving in Dean’s misery—and him (and his hand) was the one who caused it!  
  
Dean's eventual exhaustion was from being on his feet all day.  He loathed awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, while the men and women at the front of the table sold the living shit out of the goods.  And they were everything he could've hoped for.

While he had been the one to put the event together, to rally the troops, Dean was there in a chaperon capacity.  All the real work was being done by those go-getters. The best part?  They were making Cas and “Kelly Kline” look like amateurs with their hustle and output!

…Almost.

Okay, that’s what Dean _wanted_ to look like.  In a completely ideal world.  And they were doing really, really fucking well—but Cas was cheating!  
  
Kelly did this for a living!    
  
That secret weapon thing was real.  Everyone wanted a piece of Cas'stand because she was selling _her_ goods for a lower price than she did every day at her bakery.  It wasn't because of the _fundraiser_ , not really, and that was the part that really ground Dean's gear.  Sure, her 'donating to the school' may have looked good, but the fact she was running a discount and a lot of these people were her regulars gave Cas an upper-hand.  
  
That whole ‘word of mouth thing?’  It worked both ways.  
  
Someone posted that right up on social media.  So once Kelly Kline ‘bake sale’ and ‘cheap’ was on Facebook, every fan of the bakery was rushing over here to get a taste of a product that never, ever went on special.

...Maybe it really was about quality over quantity…  Still, Cas had a totally unfair advantage, and Dean was gonna kick his ass about it later!

That was, if he could sit down and relax.  Because all this jumping up, down, pacing, glaring, it was getting old…

Ah, he knew what he was getting into last night—why had he pushed Cas?!  Especially on the eve of such a long, and important day!

Dean was right, Charlie had tapped out early as her supply ran out, and then began to clean up.  She hung out, walking around the park and spreading the word about the bake sale to anyone who was within walking distance.  Charlie was their bouncy, cheery traffic-controller.

Anna stayed in it with them, but she wasn’t divulging how she was doing—it was business as usual—and Cas and Dean were so focused on _each other_ they had no idea what was going on with Anna.    
  
It was a race, they were neck and neck, and Kelly had left and returned three times already.

The best part was—during those runs?  Cas had actually run out of the goods!    
  
It didn’t matter if he had a line or not, the fact that he didn’t carry back-up on site was downtime that Dean was slinging cupcakes, pie and cookies.  Left and right!  He knew damn well that during that time he was ahead, and he and his volunteers were keeping up just as well when they were _both_ loaded.  

Each time Kelly left and Cas ran out, he’d puff up in frustration, and Dean couldn’t help but tease, “Damn that hot sun and humidity, the environment is so horrible!  God, I hate global warming!”  
  
The final time she’d left, Dean had to ask, “Why didn’t she just get as many as possible the first time?” because the batches seemed _underwhelming_.

“We’ll talk later,” Cas quickly whispered back, and promptly sold what was left of their stock before he had to wait for Kelly.  Again.

Dean was proud, their table and the purely insane amount they shot for, looked sparse—they were in the final half hour.

While bouncing up and down, Dean cheered, “Let’s get rid’a these!”    
  
Dean turned to the small gathering, hoping to draw an even bigger crowd, and shouted a booming, “Half off _everything_!”

It worked.

That turned heads, and people began migrating towards the booth, just when Kelly had rushed back to Cas again.    
  
Dean could see the panic on his boyfriend’s face, because it was the final stretch, the last leg in the race and now he had a new chunk of inventory to sell off.  He didn’t have creative freedom, like Dean, because it was _Kelly’s_ product, and he—

“Do what you need to do,” Kelly finally said, rounding the table and gripping his shoulder.  “It’s for the kids, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded curtly, and they both noticed that Charlie was strutting over.

“Dudes, all three of you, gimme your samples and I’ll walk them around!  Tell everyone about the ‘Everything Must Go’ sales.”  She gathered a few, small appetizer-like portions from Dean, Anna and Cas, cheering, “Peeps love a good clearance!”

She skipped off and bounced from person to person, each and every single one turned their direction to make a pit stop to see the bake sale tents.

At this point, there was no difference between the sales tactics, the baked goods, or even the teams anymore.    
  
This _was_ an all-out ‘Everything Must Go’ situation.  It was to see what little they could still squeeze out of this for the kids.  It was to support their very first field trip of elementary school—a memory that would shape them.

Dean could see that Anna was struggling a little with supply and demand, she had come in with the same idea as Dean—the more the merrier.  
  
From his vantage point, it was obvious: Anna simply didn’t have the team he did to support the volume and the line was slowly overwhelming her.  It wasn't even a choice for Dean, he instantly tapped one of his volunteers on the back and sent him over to Anna.  Dean stepped right into that Dad’s place and began doling out dessert for cash with a grin, making sure that everyone was still afloat.

Suddenly, Cas announced to everyone around, “Buy one, get one free!  With as many as you like!  Or can carry!”

“Heyooo!” Dean laughed brightly, and a few of their patrons from earlier in the day made a loop around, looking excited.  “Man, _you_ came at the right time!  Wanna double up on any of your treats?”

The teamwork between all four transformed into a smooth, well-oiled machine: even though they hadn’t started that way.  Their intense competition manifested as camaraderie the moment they needed each other, and not a second before.  It was a welcome change in dynamic.    
  
Hell, even the bake sale _event_ had come as a shock to Dean, their communication needed work, but this was something that brought them all together.

Instead of stopping when the clock struck five, they decided to let the volunteers go home—with hugs, high-fives and thanks—and the educators stayed until everything sold out.  And it did.

After they packed up their vans and put the money in a lockbox, all four teachers collapsed onto their backs, enjoying the slight cushion of the grass at the park.  There were contented sighs, attempts to catch breath after the physical labor, but more than anything a companionable, happy silence.  Dean's sore behind didn't even register, it was the last thing on his mind.

They were just in time to watch the sunset on this warm September evening.  The slight briskness in the air was refreshing after the heat and sweat of working all day, hustling their rears off, was only now drying.    
  
Being together and watching this sunset—it was special.

Once dusk was upon them, one by one, they started sitting up.  Dean was the first to speak, looking around and making sure to lock eyes with each of his team mates.  “Guys? We seriously kicked ass together.  I know, I know, originally, we were fighting for bragging rights and field trip rights.  But the way we came together?”

“It was pretty stellar,” Charlie piped up, “Not gonna lie.  I think this is the best quad of teachers that’s _ever_ been assembled.”

“It’s dangerous,” Anna confirmed, hugging her knees to her chest with a wicked grin.  “I’m pretty sure after today?  We could take over the world.”

Cas snorted when he said, “One cupcake at a time.”

\---------------------------

There was coffee, anticipation and excitement all rolled into one as they awaited the results.  Everyone—Anna, Cas, Charlie and Dean—had gotten to school early on Monday because they couldn’t wait until after work.  They’d asked Miss Harvelle to deliver the results, (assigning the tables they’d worked as identifiers instead of names, so there was absolutely no bias) and facts were facts.

It was a miracle after such a high-stakes situation, Dean and Cas were able to push it aside at home and function as a couple over the weekend.  Both men knew that Monday would come—whether they wanted it to or not—and they couldn’t do a thing about it sooner than that.

The four snapped to attention, like small ferrets perking up, the second Ellen walked in with a piece of paper.

She explained, “I’m keeping that lock-box far away from any little shitheads who’d get some funny ideas about ‘required classroom spending.’  Then, it’s going directly to the bank and into your First Grade Fund.  Whoo-whew, I did _not_ feel comfortable hauling that much money around...”

Everyone paused, sharing glances with the anticipation continuing to build around them—more questions than answers.  No one knew what _that_ meant, but they couldn’t come out and ask…no one questioned Ellen.

Luckily, they had a brand-new teacher with the system on their side.    
  
Cas didn’t recognize his place yet, he didn’t think twice about wondering aloud, “Was our income greater than usual fundraisers?  I’d assume you’d hold the profits for those, as well.  Unless, and pardon me for saying this, you merely feel uncomfortable with large sums of cash in general.”

“Ain’t you a peach,” Ellen laughed outright and shook her head.  “Trust me, I’d happily bust out my shotgun and shoot a hole in anyone who tries to rob me.  Reason I’m nervous ‘bout this?  This is the kind of money you’d really work to get yer hands on.”  She gestured to Cas directly, “To answer your question, Mr. Novak.”

The rest of the teachers, the ones who were familiar with Ellen, did their best to hold their composure.  There was a grand reveal, they knew it, and now (even though Cas was half-admonished) they held strong.

“I know, I know, you’re all _dying_ of suspense,” Ellen raised her hands in front of her, “I’ll give you the grand total, first.  Between the four of you, and your helpers?  I don’t know _how_ , but you racked up twenty-five grand.”

“ _T-twenty five_?” Anna spat out, “Not two-thousand five- _hundred_?”

“I’ve never taught math before, but I know where my commas go and I know how to count,” Ellen teased playfully, because everyone else…was stunned into silence.  “Seriously, you guys just clocked in fundraising for the year.  Now, do you want to know your MVP?”

“D-do we all remember our table colors?” Dean cleared his throat, in his own dazed shock, while praying for the best.

Around the room came nods, and Ellen pulled out a small post-it, reading, “Coming in first place, just shy of eight grand—yellow!”

Dean’s face fell, because that wasn’t him.  After all that planning, and fierce selling and—wait. _Cas_ wasn’t yellow either…!

His chin shot up and jutted out, staring between Anna and Charlie—and Anna was looking around, searching for a winner.

“Charlie?!” Dean demanded, “But you went out so early!  You were done right after lunch time!   _How…_?!”

“Oh, you thought that the only things I was selling were on my _table_?”  There was a purring of sass in her tone when she leaned into her hip.  “ _Honey,_  I was just getting rid of the extras.  I took preorders!  While I was manning the table, and later helping you out, I had my parents and friends on the road.  Delivering.  In _bulk_.  There weren’t any rules they had to come to the park, right?  And I was right within the time limits!”

Cas was in awe, and praised, “Well done, Charlie.   _Very_ well played.”

“And you were able to help us out with our own sales,” Anna added in, “You really _do_ deserve MVP.”

Ellen watched the scene with a small, telling grin, her arms folding in front of her.  “So if I remember right, winner picks the field trip?  Where does Miss Bradbury want to go?”

“Where do I always wanna go?”  Her smile was wild, and as she looked around—everyone was nervous, awaiting her next words.

Charlie could be a loose canon when it came to things like this.    
  
Be it her LARPing, the medieval festivals, ComiCon and other conventions…hell, sometimes she would do Civil War reenactments when the area ran dry in the ‘fun’ category.  

Her definition of her ‘important’ for education may vary a bit from the other teachers, but only because it was a lifestyle difference.

With that kind of money?  Who knew, Charlie may even want to send them to NASA Space Camp!

“The Zoo!” Charlie burst out with a flurry of fluttering fingers and a massive grin—

There was a collective sigh of relief.

She narrowed her eyes and looked around, demanding, “Where did you think I was gonna pick?  They’re _first graders_ , for God’s sake!”

Dean reached out and slung an arm around Charlie’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head.  “Should’ve known better than to have ever doubted you.  You know what you’re doing and—”

“That’s just because _you_ wanted to go to the zoo, just as bad as I did,” she called him out, batting her eyelashes.

“Yep.  That’s correct,” Dean huffed, because in a way—they’d both won.  He could tell his awesome volunteers just that, because they’d been musing about the zoo in their email chain.  Dean couldn’t wait to get the official word to them!

“I’ll let you guys go and get ready for class,” Ellen waved, and from the doorway tried her best to emphasize, “Seriously? _Fantastic_ work!  Keep it up, you guys!  I don’t want to jump the gun and call you—”

“Nah, go ahead and say it, we’re _totes_ the Dream Team,” Charlie interrupted, grabbing Dean’s hands and spinning them both around in a circle.

Ellen laughed and called after her, “Knock on wood!” and she was gone.  

“I am so ready!” Dean was geeked and pulled Charlie to his chest in a fierce hug.  He glanced at his boyfriend over her shoulder, Cas was smiling softly at him, and patted Charlie on the back.  “We, uh, should get ready for our classes, huh?  Wasted a lot of time…”

“None of it was wasted, we’re record-breakers,” Anna smoothly pointed out, and stood up.  “I’ll see you guys at recess.  Have a good morning!”

Charlie knew this was her cue to take off, and soon, it was only the two of them.

Dean reached out and grabbed Cas’ tie, pulling him in for a quick kiss, whispering, “We really do make a great crew…”

“Don’t bullshit.  You’re trying to find the words, some kind of way to ask Ellen which of _us_ won.”  Cas’ overt directness sent Dean for a loop—but only for a mere half a second—he knew his boyfriend, the way he handled these situations.

With another kiss, one that Cas actually reciprocated, Dean acknowledged, “Yep.  Don’t lie and tell me _you_ don’t know to know either.  Help me come up with a plan!”

“Why don’t we…ask her?”  He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, staring Dean down.  “I feel Ellen will respond best to the truth.  Return it with the truth, as easily.”

“We’ve got fifteen more minutes before class,” Dean stole one more kiss, grabbed Cas’ hand long enough to _yank_ and took off running.  “If we find her now, we can totally find out before the students start arriving!”

“Dammit, Dean!” Cas was right on his heels, but needed to remember to watch his mouth because they had opened a public space.  

As they rushed, something stopped them.  It was Anna, cackling and calling out, “You wanted the full test results, didn’t you?  I did, too,” and when they turned around, Ellen was standing right there with her.  It looked like Anna had paged her to her class room.  Not sprinted up and down the hall like…dumbasses.

Now, both Cas and Dean were trying to hide their blushes and awkwardly clearing their throat, clearly agreeing that’s _exactly_ what they wanted.  Even though they weren’t prepared to verbalize it, not yet.

Ellen took great, great joy in announcing to the men, “Blue and Red were tied.  Right down to the cent amount.”

“ _What_?!” Dean exploded, while Cas gasped, scandalized, “That _can’t_ be right!”

“Oh, but it is.  Numbers don’t lie,” Ellen handed them the crumbled up sticky-note and chuckled, “Great minds sell baked goods alike, huh?”

“Son of a bitch…” Dean grumbled, doing the math in his head, from the small piece of paper and it added up perfectly.

“Shit,” Cas added helpfully, and they turned to each other in defeat.

“At least we‘re going to the zoo?  And we don‘t have anything to fight about?” he offered carefully, and Cas…nodded.

“I suppose you’re correct.”

“Now, you better keep Kelly Kline the hell offa you!” Dean scolded with a pointed finger and watched a wicked smirk bloom on Cas’ face.

“I thought that may throw you off your game.  Cause somewhat of a…distraction.  I needed to use any and all strategies available to me.”  He looked around, seeing Anna had already gone into her room, that Ellen was gone from sight, and they had very limited time.  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped and he began to accuse, “That was on _purpose_ to—”  
  
“Hush,” Cas used the moment wisely, to kiss Dean sweetly before earnestly saying, “There’s _no one_ —except you.  Even if she was a very attractive man who could bake, there will _never_ be anyone besides _you_.”

“I believe you.“  Dean felt warm and fuzzy, and he couldn’t hold himself back from the equally earnest, “Next time we have an event when we’re hanging around all day?  I’m slapping your ass red, so you can’t sit down for a second without it being torture!”

“Ah, yes.  I also enjoyed _that_ little distraction, as well.  It’s a miracle you did as well as you did.”  Cas glanced at the time.  “I will see you at recess.  I hope your ass is better, since you’ll be sitting today.”

“It _really_ isn’t that much better…”

“In that case, I love you,” Cas offered, maybe as a ceasefire, who knew.    
  
Damn his cheeky boyfriend…in that case, Dean could only return with the truth.  
  
Which happened to be a whopping grin, an, “I love you, too,” and one more stolen kiss before they parted ways.    
  
Then, Dean allowed the day to continue, getting swallowed up in the land of make-believe with his students until recess when he was able to steal glances at his sneaky, gorgeous boyfriend.  While avoiding any flying objects to the face.  
  
The prospect of the zoo on the horizon?  That, right there, was friggin _awesome_.  Charlie didn’t know it yet, but Dean was full-on prepared to make himself co-pilot of planning this shindig.  Maybe he didn’t have the numbers as proof, but Dean totally _should_ have come in second-place at the bake sale.  Charlie was there, she’d agree!  
  
Plus, he’d already sent his list of volunteers from the event the good news (a special thanks for helping), so they were counting on him, right?  This was the field trip he _would_ have planned, so it was kind of like he was planning it.  Dean was both super stoked about seeing and sharing the animals with his class  _and_ was salty that his boyfriend played dirty.  
  
Yeah, okay, maybe Dean liked it when Cas played dirty.  Although eventually, his sexy, crafty, devilish mastermind of a boyfriend would realize that payback was a bitch.  Cas would get what was coming to him, Dean could get creative, too...and it’d be sooner than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for SPN Fluff Bingo  
> Square Filled: Who Can Sell More at the Bake Sale
> 
> **UP NEXT**  
>  Going to the Zoo


End file.
